


once upon a dream

by NyarlathotepShaggedYerMum



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassin's Creed Fusion, Alternate Universe - Dragon Age Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover Pairings, Demonic Possession, Demons, Desire Demons (Dragon Age), Despair Demons (Dragon Age), Emotional Manipulation, Gore, Hallucinations, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Pride Demons (Dragon Age), Psychological Torture, The Fade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-17 02:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 51,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9299945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyarlathotepShaggedYerMum/pseuds/NyarlathotepShaggedYerMum
Summary: The first time Jacob met Senriel Lavellan, it was in a dream.





	1. i know you

**Author's Note:**

> Jacob is six years old at the start, and Lavellan is obviously older. However, nothing happens until after Jacob reaches the age of consent. Even then, Lavellan doesn't think of even making a move on Jacob, because Jacob would be the one to initiate things.

Jacob Frye knew Evie was a lot better when it came to sneaking around, but that didn't stop him from trying to prove himself to be just as good as her.

He was a little annoyed that at six years old, Evie was about an inch taller than him. It wasn't fair, he's the boy, shouldn't he be bigger than Evie?

Still, it wasn't that hard to reach father's table. He was out with Evie anyway, training. Jacob snuck away out of annoyance, since father spent most of that time pointing out every mistake Jacob made while praising his twin for her progress. Jacob had no idea what he was doing wrong. He did what father said, adjusted his stance and made sure to hold his training weapon correctly, but father still found something wrong.

“Father is just some stupid adult anyway,” Jacob muttered then, marching home sullenly.

There wasn't much to do at home, grandmother was resting, and Uncle George was probably at the village at this hour. They had a lot of books, but they're all just boring stuff about history so that's no good.

So Jacob took to exploring the house, practicing how to sneak so that the next time father took them out to train again, Jacob can show him how better he got at it.

He made sure not to make any noise so that grandma doesn't wake up, she's been sleeping a lot, and Uncle George said it's because she was getting older. Which was silly because grandma was old already, she can't get any older than she already was.

Jacob almost whooped in victory when he walked on the creaky floorboard and it didn't make a sound. He was grinning all through out as he dashed and snuck around their own home. He almost fell when he climbed up a bookcase in the parlour and then leapt for another, scrambling on the wood with his legs in the air. When Jacob managed to climb up, he can't stop grinning at his success.

Eventually, Jacob ran out of high places to climb up and corners to hide in. Growing bored, he decided to check if father left his room open like the last time. That was the only place where they have pictures or anything that belonged to mum. Without much to do, Jacob decided to sneak in.

The whole house was quiet, the windows were closed, and the clouds outside seemed like they were leeching the light away. There's a strange… Thickness in the air that made the hairs behind Jacob's neck stand. Like a storm approaching. At the second floor of their home, father's room was at the very end of the hall, about ten feet away from the stairwell. However in that moment, the distance felt larger.

The door was closed, and shadows feel across the hall. Something cold trickled down Jacob's spine, and he can't help but feel eyes watching him. Which was weird because it was just him and Nan at home, and Evie and father won't be home until sundown.

Nevertheless, Jacob can't help but feel that he wasn't alone. He clenched his fists and kept his chin high. There's no such thing as ghosts.

Every step Jacob took to approach the door, the floorboards creaked. The noise was loud too his ears, and if he strained his hearing, it was as if he can hear someone talking. It felt like walking on glass, and Jacob swore that the door grew farther away. He could feel sweat drip down his forehead, but the air inside their house was cold.

Jacob almost jumped when he stepped on a creaky floorboard, but it wasn't the sound of wood that greeted his ears, but something like a kid laughing. Wood on the cold made strange sounds, right?

Yet, as he tried to reach his father's room, the sound of creaking became weaker and Jacob was absolutely sure it was voices he was hearing. They didn't seem to say anything that he understood, by there was a lot of them, and he can hear then grow closer. His heartbeat was slowly going louder behind his ears, and when it was much too deafening, he broke into a run.

The voices seemed amused and he can hear thousands of them laughing at him, the cacophony following him as he ran for the door. The shadows bled black on the walls and glowing yellow eyes followed him. The world narrowed down to him and just father's door. If he glanced behind, Jacob can see blank faces staring back at him.

Heart racing, Jacob almost screamed when he felt hands grasping at him, trying to pull him. He struggled a almost barreled over the gritty floor, but he didn't stop. Almost cried in relief when he finally reached the door, happy that it was _open_ , and then slammed it shut behind him.

The sound reverberated in the whole house, shaking the frames, but Jacob could care less in that moment, he's just happy that he got at from… Whatever that was.

Now that he was in father's room, he can only stare at his surroundings, unsure what to do.

Evie and Jacob were rarely allowed, and in the few times they were, it was only for a few minutes and that was only when father of Uncle George was present. This was the first time Jacob found himself alone for a longer amount of time.

There wasn't much in father's room. A large need took most of the space, pushed onto the opposite wall and far from the window with a dresser next to it. There were bookshelves in father's room, of course, and a couple of locked chests. One stood out in particular.

Even if it didn't seem like something that would belong to mum, Jacob knew it was hers. Snakes were carved in detail on the chest, looping around a keyhole like the number eight lying down. The keyhole itself was inside a snake's mouth, fangs right above the slot. A pair of dragons stood guard at the lid, veins of bright blue etched on their scales. The wood was dark, almost black, with highlights of gold and blue on whatever that was metal.

There was no key, and Jacob doesn't know how to pick locks yet. He was a little disappointed that he can't open the chest.

Instead, he settled for tracing the designs carved on the wood, marveling at how smooth and how warm it was, even with the dreary English weather. He wondered if these what actual dragons looked like.

His finger came to rest above the keyhole, noting a tiny carving that looked like an eye with sun rays around and a sword stabbing it. It was curiosity that made Jacob put his finger through the keyhole, wondering if the snake will bite. It was a silly thought, because it was made of wood.

Then the fangs clamped down.

Jacob yelled, tears gathering in his eyes at the sudden pain. The fangs pricked his finger when the snake head clamped its mouth shut, and he could see the blood well up at the very tip. A drop rolled down inside the slot and then it opened its jaw wide once again. The snakes’ bodies began to slither around the box, it's interlocking length moving away to loosen its hold on the lid. With a loud click, the box opened and a bright blue glow greeted Jacob.

A sudden cacophony of whispering voices filled his ears, and if he tried to make sense of it, Jacob was sure he can hear singing.

Inside the box was a pole-arm disassembled into the pieces, the length of each component almost as long as the box, probably as big as a person when combined. One of it had a ruby attached into what looked like a dragon's head, bright with an inner glow. Three other component had a wicked looking snake head with its maw wide, a pair of fangs sticking out.

The source of the blue glow was a strange piece of glass. It looked like coloured broken glasses cast inside clear crystal, poured into a mold with a detailed skull, barely covered by red velvet. The voices were louder when Jacob picked it up, making sure not to touch the shard itself.

_“From…. To child…_

_He sleeps, he waits…._

_Destroy… once more….”_

Jacob's world began to narrow down. Darkness eating away at everything, and all he could focus on was the voices emanating from the shard. It was a mesmerising thing to look at. It called to him, singing to him. The blue glow filled his vision, as if nothing in the world existed. It was trying to tell him something, trying to make him _understand._ Still, their voices sounded like underwater, incomprehensible. There was something missing, something he needed to do to discern their meaning.

He traced the shard with his wounded finger, a trail of red following his digit. The object glowed a dull red, the voices turned deeper.

“ _Heed us, child…._

_We will make them see…_

_You will do us proud…_ You _will do your father proud…._

_Let us in… Let us in….”_

Jacob can see father, smiling down at him, the pride he often reserved for Evie shone in his eyes was now directed at Jacob. Father held his hand out, a proud smile on his lips. Jacob's heart seized in his chest. Father rarely smiled at him. Jacob can barely remember when was the last time father looked happy to see him. Rare it was to think of a recent happy memory, and Jacob wanted to have it. Tentatively, Jacob reached out.

“ _This could be yours, just let us in…”_

Father's smile grew, and Jacob stood up slowly, unsure if what he was seeing was true. He wanted it to be true. So if he wanted it hard enough, it will come true, right? It felt nice to know that father took time to be here with him, even if he had to leave Evie behind.

Wait.

“Where's Evie?” Jacob stepped back, the shard slipping out of his hand and then landed on the floor with a dull thunk. “You're training, with her, right?”

Father smiled, and the angles all looked wrong. “Does she matter? It's all about you, Jacob.”

Throat thick, Jacob smiled, a sense of wrongness at the base of his stomach. “Well, she's my sister… she matters to me.”

Father raised a brow. “But isn't this what you want? Don't you want to do me proud?”

Jacob took a step back. The shadows were back, and a thousand eyes stared down from the darkness. The singing was louder, a strange hymn long forgotten. Older than the First Civilisation. Older than the Ones that Came Before.

Jacob so his head, he had no idea where that came from.

“I want to do you proud,” Jacob admitted, stepping back when father followed. “But I know you like Evie more.”

“See? I'm giving you the chance to like you more than Evie? Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what you wish before you sleep?” Father knelt until they were eye-level. “Don't you want me to love you, Jacob?”

Unbidden, tears fell from Jacob's eyes. He does want father to finally be proud of him, love him like Evie. He never did anything right, he wasn't even cut out to be a good assassin. Uncle George was just being nice, and the only one who really cared was grandma, but she was barely awake anyway to show that she cared.

“Shh… I'm here, you just need to let us in.” Father held his shoulder, his hands were big and warm. He wiped Jacob's tears before pulling him in for a hug. “Will you let us in, Jacob?”

Jacob shook his head. No matter what happened, no matter what anyone says, or what he wanted - Jacob can never have what he wanted. Father was just lying and playing tricks on him anyway. There was no way father will say the things he did, the things he's doing right now was just probably to make Uncle George not angry at father anymore.

“No, you're lying.” Jacob pushed father away, who easily let him go. “You’re just saying that, but you won't do it.”

Jacob's heart stopped beating for a second, a terrifying angry expression in father's face flashed too quickly, but Jacob caught it nevertheless that had fear soaring in his veins. Then an easy smile grew instead, but Jacob was too afraid to make any more comments.

“It's alright, son.” Father sounded wrong, everything was wrong. “Soon, you will understand.”

Father reached again, but Jacob didn't want to spend another second with him. Horror clawed at the back of his throat, the singing growing into frenzied screaming, promises of knowledge crooning inside his head, his father stretching and stretching into his bones while his gold snake eyes stared back with blood dripping down his fangs and-

Jacob ran.

He slammed the door open to see his father and Evie staring back at him. Father had a disappointed expression in his face, staring at Jacob's tear-stained cheeks. Evie had a curious expression, but otherwise mirrored their father's disappointment.

“Is there a particular reason why you broke into my room?” Father asked, brow raised. He towered over Jacob, the angles of his face sharp and his eyes hard. Jacob had to shake his head, trying to understand what just happened. One minute, it was his father turning into a monster, then the next - Ethan Frye was standing next to his sister outside his room.

_‘What if it was a monster that turned into father?’_ Jacob wondered, feeling the cold settle down his stomach. _‘What if it comes back for me?’_

“Well?” Jacob almost jumped when father asked, tapping his foot almost impatiently. Then father's eyes narrowed onto mum's opened chest. “How did you open that?”

Jacob opened his mouth to reply, but shut it close. What if father doesn't believe him that there was a monster inside the chest? Besides, it opened with Jacob's blood, not with a key. How does one open a lock with blood?

“I broke the lock,” Jacob lied, squaring his jaw defiantly, crossing his arms. “It just has a stick and a piece of glass, anyway.”

A piece of glass that whispered behind Jacob's ear, but he can't let father know that it scared him. Father would probably know how to shut it up and then scold him.

Sceptical, father approached the open box. Jacob clenched his fists, tiny as they were, terrified that the monster will suddenly jump out the chest and take father away. His eyes darted around, turning his fledgling eagle vision on, trying to look for the creature that just wore Ethan Frye's face.

“What's this?” Father asked, holding out the shard, musing to himself. Jacob can't help but pale, can hear the voices in the shard crooning at him. He bit his lip, resisting the urge to shout at them to shut up. The cacophony began to sing when he tasted copper. Jacob had to glance away when father took out the top of the staff, raising a brow at the ruby.

He met Evie's stare, and he just huffed.

Father shook his head and returned the items, and then closed the chest. Jacob sighed in relief.

The voices were gone now.

“Is there something you'd like to tell me, Jacob?” Disappointment coloured father's voice, and Jacob can remember the monster that wore the man's face, loving and proud.

He blinked and then his eyes widened when he saw father's reflection staring at him through the window, a secretive smile on its face. It zipped its mouth playfully and threw away the key.

He glanced at the imitation and the real thing, torn between telling the truth and lying. Father was big and scary, and he'd probably be strong enough to beat the creature that wore his face. But….

But he couldn't give Jacob what he wanted. Father was strong and brave, but he had his heart set on Evie, too focused to make her the best Assassin in the Brotherhood. He probably would forget about Jacob and think him silly for believing in monsters. He will think that Jacob was too weak and not good enough, so it probably didn't matter if Jacob told the truth or not.

So, Jacob Frye found himself shaking his head, meeting his father's eyes. He didn't know what to say, he had no idea what to do to satisfy his father's demands. Out of its own accord, his mouth began to move, words rolling between his tongue, his voice steady and innocent and truthful, yet defensive and defiant all the same. At his periphery, his father's reflection was talking.

“I know Evie and I aren't allowed here,” the reflection said in Jacob's voice with Jacob's mouth. “I just wanted to see mum's stuff.”

Ethan Frye’s expression shuttered off, and Jacob was terrified that Ethan saw through the lie. Father stared at him through the glass, and Jacob felt an impression of a warm hand holding his shoulder in silent support. Whatever fear he felt washed away, drowned by a warmth that bloomed in his chest, trickling down his toes. It's almost like he was floating. He can barely hear whatever Ethan said, the singing washed his worries away, Jacob felt like he can make a hundred leaps of faith right then and there and won't ever tire. There's buzzing inside his head, like white noise filled his brain. He can feel his mouth move, can hear his voice speak, but he had no idea what he was saying, what Ethan or Evie were saying. None of it mattered.

Then his feet began to move - following Evie downstairs, belatedly, Jacob realised it was supper time. Grandma somehow found the time to wake up and cook, shepherd's pie already waiting in the dinner table. Uncle George was there, talking to grandma, so he'd probably stay again for a few days.

Now that Jacob's away from the box and the imitation, his head cleared and a wave of cold crashed down in Jacob's gut. Something made him do those things, made him say things. It controlled him, and Jacob knew it was because he let it in, somehow. He needed to tell father, or Evie, or Uncle George. What if it decides to hurt them?

A warm hand began to card through Jacob's hair, fatherly affection in every movement, and Jacob found himself… yearning for it. He can confront it later. The creature will show itself again once Jacob reveals its deceit, right? Besides, no one would probably believe him anyway if he told his family there's a monster that can wear other people's faces. Especially Ethan Frye's face.

Jacob remembered father smiling at him through the window, as if keeping a secret. Their secret.

So, Jacob opted to let their normal nightly routine go on, can feel a sudden giddiness at keeping a secret from Evie and Ethan Frye. He finally knew something they don't. He can feel approval coo behind his ears.

With that, Jacob took to teasing Evie, making fun of her hair or her books, can feel a strange elation in his chest when her previously worried eyes settled for annoyance. She had no idea.

He just wanted to have something for himself, Jacob's a big boy now, he can take care of himself.

His negativity must have shown, because Evie poked his arm, the worry was back in her eyes. An alien annoyance brushed across Jacob's consciousness, and he felt himself scowl. She'd probably tell father or something.

“What?” Jacob still had food inside his mouth, Evie wrinkled her nose in disgust and then chided him to swallow. Feeling defensive, Jacob said, “You know, with all father's training, you can't be all lady like even if you tried. I mean, that's why all the other girls think you're a freak.”

Dead silence followed.

Her posture stiffened, and hurt showed in her expression. Jacob almost flinched, guilt gnawing in his chest. He didn't mean to hurt Evie, and both knew that Evie was insecure sometimes when they interacted with the other girls from the village. While they played with dolls and learned how to sew, Evie was training how to sneak in a heavily guarded building. It was hard not to feel left out, whenever they interacted with other children. Jacob knew better than to say that. Why did he say that anyway?

Ethan Frye almost slammed his cutlery on the table, but something stopped Jacob from jumping in surprise. Jacob can feel mirth all around him, amused at his family's reaction. An apology was already in Jacob's lips, he really didn't want to hurt Evie.

_‘She's always at the top Jacob, she always made you feel down,’_ father's voice whispered, but Ethan Frye was glaring at him furiously. Jacob really thought hard about it, but Evie and Jacob have plenty of good moments, didn't they? Even if it was hard to remember right then and there. He can only see Evie shouting at him to leave him alone in his mind's eye, her voice echoing in his ears. Jacob can't remember why she was angry then, but that was the only thing that mattered in that moment. _‘Why not give her a taste of her own medicine? That only seems right. She's trying to know your secret, after all.’_

“Jacob,” grandma began, disappointed. “I don't know what came over you, but you know it's not right to hurt the feelings of others. However, you must apologise to your sister, because that's the right thing to do.”

Jacob glanced down, feeling horrid. A flash of memory came, Evie tripping and laughing at him while they played. He remembered scraping his knees, hurt that she was amused at his pain. Jacob wanted to hit her then, trying not to cry. Then she -

_‘I want to hurt her.’_ Jacob heard himself say. Jacob can feel the impression of his anger, growing white hot inside his skull _. ‘She can't hurt us when we're hurting them. No one will hurt us ever again.’_

_‘Then, let me,’_ father's voice crowed in approval, a phantom hand rubbing circles behind his back.

“Father doesn't want you here. He thinks it's better you stayed in Wales. You're a distraction, hindering our training. You're going to die anyway.”

“Jacob Frye!” Ethan roared, shooting up from his seat, eyes bright with rage. Grandma sobbed suddenly, hiding her face behind her hands. Uncle George looked like he'd rather be anywhere than here.

Evie got out of her seat, trying and failing to wipe her tears away. “What's wrong with you?”

_‘What's wrong with me?_ ’ Jacob thought, feeling small and terrified. He loved grandma, she's the last person he'd ever want to hurt. He wanted to take back whatever he said. He didn't say it. It was the monster.

“You better apologise to your grandmother and sister, _now_.”

_‘Do they really matter, Jacob?_ ’ Approval filled his senses, his head growing fuzzy with static. It was getting hard to think with all the warm feelings surrounding him, hard to see what he did wrong. Jacob just told the truth, didn't he? Besides, it wasn't as if that's not what father thought about grandma, or what Evie thought to herself sometimes. Father often said the truth hurts, didn't he?

“Do you remember what Cecily said?” Jacob stood up, meeting Ethan’s eyes, the voices singing at him with praises. Ethan stiffened, face red and a vein pulsing in his forehead. “Do you remember when screamed and cried for the pain to end when I killed her _? 'I can't breathe, Ethan. Don't leave me, please.’_ Do you remember that? Do you remember wanting to abandon me, kill me? Do you remember thinking that you would have abandoned me in a church and let the wolves have me?”

Then grandmother began to heave, her breathing pained. When Jacob glanced at her, she was clutching her chest in a vice-grip. Ethan and Uncle George rushed towards her, getting her hand away from her chest while they forced her to lie down.

“Get a physician!” Ethan ordered, Uncle George rushed right out, pale. Jacob can taste his fear. Ethan was too busy trying to pump grandmother’s stuttering heart. Evie returned, wondering what the continue was about. When Ethan saw her, he shouted, “help me get grandma's dress off!”

Evie rushed and got a knife from the table. She started tearing off the front, to help grandmother breathe.

Jacob felt far away, like none of these were happening to him. It was like watching a dream unfold, everything was muted and Jacob can barely feel the guilt and sorry that he's supposed to feel. What he can only feel was approval, like he just did something perfectly. There was pride and affection as well, and Jacob can only bask in that warmth. It was all that he could want in that moment, and he was content. Jacob felt himself smile.

Evie probably saw his expression, because she turned pale and her eyes widened in horror. Ethan caught it and followed her gaze as he tried to futilely get grandmother’s heart beating again. Jacob met Ethan’s eyes, and whatever Evie saw, he did as well. He froze there, eyes as wide and terrified.

“Ethan, the physician’s on his way, how’s – What’s going on?” Uncle George cursed and then replaced Ethan’s hands and tried to restart grandmother’s heart. Ethan stood up, confused and afraid, tentatively approaching Jacob. A strange expression crossed his face next, and Jacob thought it was worry, but everything was too fuzzy for him to say anything else, do anything else.

“You can’t save her,” Jacob’s voice was toneless, without any inflection. “You can’t save anyone else.”

Ethan Frye’s expression crumpled into raw grief, heart aching with pain. “Jacob?”

_“Wake up!”_

Then everything came crashing down.

All the windows and doors banged open and shut. Gaslights flickered. The shadows danced and stretched, a thousand voices laughed. Blue light burst behind Jacob’s eyes, extending outwards. Then all the commotion died down.

Jacob glanced around his surroundings, confused. Grandma was lying down, Evie was trying not to cry, Uncle George was still pumping his fists on Grandma’s chest (but she wasn’t moving anymore), and father was staring at Jacob like he had no idea who Jacob was. The voices behind his ear had gone silent, the monster wasn’t saying anything, and dread and guilt replaced whatever warmth it brought with it.

Jacob’s eyes widened, he hurt Evie and Grandma and father. He hurt everyone he loved.

“Father?” he asked, terrified. He had no idea what pushed him to do those things, but he had a sinking feeling that if he looked deep down within himself, he _wanted_ to. He let something in, and it used him like a toy. It wore his skin and spoke with his voice, said all those cruel things that he knew that will hurt his family. And for what reason?

“I….” Evie’s eyes were red and puffy, but the recent haunt made her afraid. Jacob swallowed. The monster made him do this, made him hurt them. “There was something in the box – I thought it was you.”

Jacob tried to shrink in on himself, feeling a sudden heat inside his chest. It wasn’t the same warmth from earlier, this was searing – burning – like fire. It hurt.

“I’m sorry.” Jacob can feel tears gather in his eyes, realising that the promises of love and affection, the power to grant his deepest _desire_ was a lie. “They did it and I let them.”

“Who are ‘they’?” Ethan had a worried look on his face, trying to hide the hurt. He held his hand out, as if encouraging Jacob to approach him. Jacob was too terrified to step close, afraid that it was another trick, another illusion. The heat in his chest grew hotter, moving up sluggishly, like molten metal.

“He – I….”

He glanced at grandma, Uncle George already stopped what it was that he was doing, cradling his head in his hands. Grandma’s eyes were wide and her hands were clutched painfully. She wasn’t breathing.

“I’m sorry, I –“ Jacob would be lying if he said he didn’t mean to. “I’m so sorry.”

His own tears fell, and he tried to stop sobbing. It’s all his fault. Grandma was _dead_ because of him. He sucked in a large breath and tried to wipe the tears, but more came. Ethan reluctantly approached him, and then grabbed Jacob’s shoulder gently.

Jacob froze, afraid, writhed away from his father’s touch, the magma in his veins flaring with sharp pain. What if it was another one of monster’s tricks? Father wouldn’t have forgiven Jacob for killing the last of mum’s family. This was probably the monster trying to make Jacob lower his guard down again. He was probably telling father what to do like what he did with Jacob.

“Jacob?”

“No.” Jacob took a step back, can feel the cold crawling up his spine. This was another trick. He was still seeing what the monster wanted him to see, but Jacob won’t fall for it. He continued backwards, not taking his eyes off the illusion, waiting for it to unravel like it did the first time. The horns should start showing up soon, and the monster’s gold snake eyes will show itself. The monster continued, and Jacob’s eyes widened, shaking in fear when his back finally hit the wall. The heat crept in his vision, made the world white-hot, his hands stinging with heat.

His eyes darted around, Uncle George already up and approaching like the illusion did – but what if the monster was making Jacob see things? None of these could possibly be _real_. He can’t trust them.

Jacob ran.

The illusions called for him, giving chase.

He screamed when he felt a large and familiar hand grab him by the scruff when he was about to jump out an open window. Fear fuelled the flames and it burst.

Flames surrounded Jacob’s vision, exploding outwards. The combustion itself felt like it came from Jacob’s chest, a ring of fire immolating everything within its range. Jacob heard the monster scream in shock, Uncle George shouting and Evie calling for him.

_‘It’s a trick, it’s not real!’_  Jacob chanted inside his head, refusing to believe any more of the monster’s lies. The flames that surrounded him didn’t hurt, and Jacob easily made it through. The drapes caught in the fire, and it began to spread. Uncle George swore loudly, and he heard the fabric getting torn off from the rod. Jacob landed _hard_ on the ground, but he continued to run.

It was a good thing that behind the Frye home was a forest, otherwise it would have been easy for anyone to find him.

Jacob had no idea how long he ran, letting his legs carry him as far as possible. Clouds obscured the skies, and if not for eagle vision, Jacob would have hardly seen where he was going. Adrenaline rush gave him a head start, the darkness of the night just made tracking him difficult.

Eventually, his energy wore off, and Jacob found himself heaving and panting. He slumped by a tree on a patch of grass, sobbing and shivering in the cold. He glanced around him and flinched. He had no idea where he was.

He hugged himself, sniffling. The ground was just as cold as the air, the dirt smelled musty. Jacob spent all the heat he had to spare when he was running away, and his shirt was barely enough to keep him warm. He can hear rumbling in the distance, and Jacob can smell rain coming. Jacob curled into a ball, trying to make himself smaller - warmer. It was no use, as rain began to fall. Soon enough, a downpour soaked Jacob to the bone. The wind wasn’t that strong, but it chilled the water clinging to Jacob’s clothes and skin.

Teeth chattering, Jacob screwed his eyes shut, trying to remember how to call the heat back to his skin. He can still remember the white-hot pain running in his veins, exploding into a circle of flame.

It was no use. He spent every ounce of his energy.

And it did feel like it. Jacob’s limbs felt heavy, and there’s an ache settling deep in his bones. Whatever leftover strength Jacob had was spent on his breathing, which didn’t calm from its laboured state. A thickness settled at the back of his throat, and Jacob coughed. Pounding began at the base of his skull, crawling up until it settled into dull throbbing behind his eyes. Everything felt like ice, and Jacob ended up falling to his side in a foetal position. Everything hurt from head to toe, every inch of his skin was cold.

He tried to keep his eyes open, tears no longer falling. His eyes felt dry and heavy, and Jacob struggled hard to stay awake. The pressure behind his eyes throbbed in his forehead next, and Jacob closed his eyes instinctively in pain.

Eventually, he was too exhausted to stay awake, and the last thing Jacob saw before he fell asleep were large blue eyes staring curiously at him.

 

Grandma was peeling potatoes when Jacob snuck into the kitchen, wondering if there were any leftover cookies. He sniggered when she didn’t notice him sneak by.

The jar floated right about in the place where it usually was, the counter missing from their kitchen. Jacob reached for it, and the jar floated into his waiting hands. It felt natural, making things happen, shaping how things go.

Jacob removed the lid, but the jar was empty. Disappointed, he let it go. It floated right where he held it. Grandma just hummed contentedly, preparing dinner. Evie and father would probably be outside, training. Jacob shrugged, moving past the closed door. There were no walls.

The stairs upstairs were upside down, but the world tilted accordingly when Jacob stepped on the landing. In the distance, he can clouds obscuring an island in the sky.

The hall was made from rock, doors floating at the sides. Father’s room was at the very end, the door wide open. Curious, Jacob made his way.

The chest was still open, the staff assembled properly in the bed and the shard was in someone else’s hands.

There’s another boy standing by the bed, wearing a white shirt and dark shorts without any shoes on, about an inch or two shorter than Jacob. The boy was looking at the shard curiously, tongue stuck out of his lips as he turned the shard over in his hands. He had large ears, tapered into sharp points like a knife. His hair was black and straight, cut messily and just about fell in front of his eyes. The boy was very pale, like he hadn’t seen the sun in a long time, but he didn’t look English or European either. He looked like some of the Chinese or Japanese assassins father and Uncle George spoke with sometimes. Like the assassins passing by before heading off to London or to some other part of the British Empire.

Strangely enough, the Eastern Asian boy with the sharp ears had blue eyes.

Jacob cleared his throat. The boy held his hand up to him. Jacob rolled his eyes.

“Excuse me, but what are you doing in father’s room?” Jacob crossed his arms and tried to stare down at the smaller kid. The boy hummed, tracing the shard with his left hand, trails of blue following his digit. Jacob tapped his foot impatiently. It wasn’t nice being ignored.

Before Jacob can open his mouth again, the boy faced him, grinning. “Senriel Lavellan.”

“Huh?” was Jacob’s intelligent reply.

The boy – Senriel – stepped closer, until they were about a foot away from another. At this close, Jacob can see a burst of gold around Senriel’s slightly oval pupils. Freckles dotted his nose as well. Senriel’s eyes were rather large with thick lashes, but they were sharp and slanted and showed about half of his double-lids. His face was rather heart-shaped with a slightly pointed chin, but his forehead wasn’t very wide. His cheekbones were high, and his jaw was set delicately. Half of Senriel’s inner brows slanted downwards, and his enormous grin made him look mischievous. He had a narrow-pinched nose. His lips were narrow and a little pink – showing crooked teeth with one of his canines poking out like a tiny fang.

“My name, of course.” Senriel’s voice was dry and amused, like he was talking to Jacob like Jacob was the smaller kid. Which was stupid because Senriel was all skin and bones, almost no baby fat except for the roundness in his cheeks.

“Er, Jacob – Jacob Frye.” Jacob held his hand out, because grandma said that’s the polite thing to do when meeting a new person. Senriel grabbed it with his tinier hand and shook it excitedly, nodding as he did so.

“I know! First mage in ten years! It’s been a long time now. I’ve been wandering around here for some time now, I think it was your grandfather was the last mage I met in your family.” The boy sounded like grandma, Welsh, except it was thicker. Senriel let go and climbed up the bed, frowning as he observed his limbs. “Huh, weird.”

“Wait, you’re just a kid. How d’you know grandpa?” Jacob crossed his arms, holding his chin up.

“Well, I’m not a kid. I just look like one because…” Senriel’s made a considering sound, tapping his chin. Then he stared at Jacob, long and hard. Jacob stared back. Jacob refused to back down. He’s not losing a staring contest to some small kid with weird ears.

Senriel broke first, but he looked happy. He was laughing, and Jacob’s ears burned because it felt like Senriel was laughing at him. After a second, Senriel stopped, but he was looking at Jacob like he knew Jacob for a long time. He patted the spot next to him in the bed.

Jacob felt conflict at that. Kids often tried to make friends with him and Evie, but many of them often decide to cut contact because they weren’t exactly normal.

Senriel rolled his eyes, giving Jacob a look. “Look, I was sixteen – I think – last I checked, I’m just trying to befriend you. We don’t have Circles, Colleges, or Clans anymore – and finding out you’re a mage when you’re really young can be terrifying, especially when your first encounter was with a demon.”

“I don’t – what is this place?” Jacob glanced around, realising for the first time that this wasn’t their home. It was a pale imitation, a mere shadow to the real thing, and that had alarm bells ringing inside Jacob’s ears. The chest, the monster, grandma _dead_ , running in the rain.

Memories crashed back into Jacob like a violent wave, and he fell on the stone floor, trying to breathe. He can’t breathe, there’s something sitting on top of him, the darkness was closing in, everything is too big and too tight and his heart stopped beating and –

There’s a small hand pulling him, rubbing patterns behind his back. Jacob froze, terrified that it was the monster – the _demon_ – but it was too small to use his father’s skin. He can hear a boy telling him to breathe in counts of two, deep and slow. The weight in his chest eased away as he timed his breathing with Senriel’s counting, feeling his thundering heart slow down. The roaring in his ears quieted down – that’s when Jacob realised it was _there_. Senriel held him in his tiny body, until Jacob was sure he can breathe and talk and _think_ again.

“Where are we?” was his first question, looking at the dark rocks, the floating city just beyond his reach, the eternal night blanketing the world. It’s like a dream, maybe it is, but Senriel was too real to be a dream too.

“Many call this purgatory nowadays, but back before the Precursors, this was the Fade – or the Beyond, if you’re an elf like me.” Senriel pulled away, and Jacob meet his worried gaze. “People go here when they sleep, but it’s rare that there’s someone who can even remember _being_ here. More so someone who can enter even when awake. Except that’s not accurate, it’s kind of like looking at the world without glasses and then you put one on and everything kinda clears out.”

“So, we’re in the dream world?” Jacob imagined the house reforming in the way it _should_ , and the world changed shaped accordingly. “We can make anything happen in dreams, right?”

Senriel shook his head, smiling lightly. “Nah, it’s rare. _You_ , though, are a Dreamer or Somniari, as a dear friend would think if he meets you. Kind of like me too, though. You have the rare ability to make anything happen in dreams – what you can do in dreams, you can do outside too!”

“Really?” Curiosity ate whatever fear Jacob had for his strange predicament. Senriel called him a mage, didn’t he? “Wait, so magic does exist?”

“Of course, it does!” Senriel grabbed the staff and pocketed the shard before pulling Jacob with him. The elf was surprisingly strong for his delicate size, since he can drag Jacob without much effort. “I can show you a spell or two, maybe teach you how to have demons leave you alone while we’re at it!”

Fear soaring, Jacob remembered his last encounter. “You can fight them?”

The elf nodded enthusiastically, leading Jacob to a large courtyard. There’s a big fortress in front of them, made from stone, and Jacob can see impressions of people sparring in a ring. There were more impressions of people walking around, some rushing about in a hurry while others moved on leisurely. In the distance, he can hear conversations long gone and half-remembered. He can feel someone’s sorrow brushing against his consciousness.

“Is this your home?” Jacob asked, looking past the gate between the high walls. It looked like they were touching the sky.

Senriel lips curved up, but his eyes were sad like grandma’s whenever Jacob and Evie told her father will be taking them out to train. He let go of Jacob and hugged the staff to himself, tracing the snakes carved on the metal. “Yeah, this was my home.”

Jacob didn’t know what to say next, but he almost dropped the staff when Senriel threw it at him. It was old, probably older than grandfather. Some of the etchings faded with time, tiny impressions where hands used to hold them.

“First lesson!” Senriel raised a finger, a serious expression on his face, but he just looked like he was trying not to laugh. “We meditate.”

Jacob groaned.

“But I sucked at meditation, so that’s no good.” Senriel sat cross-legged, patted on the earth for Jacob to do the same. Grumbling, Jacob wondered why he would follow since the elf was just a _kid._

Said kid clapped his hands together, but instead of empty space, lightning crackled between his fingers. Purple light danced in his hands, flying in intricate patterns around his hands, but it didn’t seem like it hurt Senriel _at all_. “Yeah, this isn’t my main element or anything, but I had a feeling you like flashy stuff.”

“You’ll teach me how?” Jacob sat cross-legged right in front of Senriel, scooting closer to the other boy. The staff was right next to him, and his hands were already clasped together.

“Why not? If you promise not to sacrifice people or make deals with demons, then I’d show you all the neat stuff.” Senriel traced something on the ground, the track of dirt glowing green. It turned into a strange symbol, the green light shifted to blue, and Jacob can hear something like bells tinkling. Blue fire lit from his hands, and Jacob felt terror seize him when the whispering voices returned. “These are the basics, and we just need to polish it. Best way to start with meditation is to make cold fire – Veilfire.”

The elf stared at Jacob’s wide eyes, the blue flames extinguished and the voices turned silent, and then gave Jacob a reassuring smile. Senriel then made a comically horrified expression, kind of like the face Evie made when they’re making fun of the nasty old lady that always screamed at them to give them the belt whenever they passed by her house. There was something about Senriel’s eyes that calmed him, like he _understood_. “Creators, I need to teach you about the Veil and the Fade – and spirits and demons too. Ugh, the Litany and the Blight, what did I get myself into?”

Feeling the fear ebb away, Jacob laughed.


	2. i walked with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend passes by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a light and fluffy fusion au with the occasional angst from unresolved feelings. Not a nightmare conga for two kids. D:

_once upon a dream_

Jacob blinked, the world around him a blur of colours and sound.

There’s something metallic between his fingers, and he it felt like someone was carrying him. His head still felt fuzzy, and everything felt hot. Jacob can hear someone talking, but everything felt fuzzy and unreal, like he was still in the Fade.

The Assassin-to-be woke up, eyes wide from the memories trickling in. He glanced around him, the rain wasn’t as bad as the night before, but dark clouds still covered the night sky. Jacob wondered if what happened the day before was just a dream – a nightmare. Lingering guilt still ate Jacob, and it was hard to feel hopeful with the ache throbbing in his head going down in his chest.

When Jacob realised he was holding the staff Senriel gave him in the dream – in the Fade – a sudden itch then trickled down Jacob’s throat, and he began to cough. It sounded wet and heavy, made his voice sound rough.

“We’re almost there, hold on.”

Jacob froze, it was father.

Memories the night before flashed behind his eyes, and Jacob can feel tears gather again. It was his selfishness that made him keep the existence of the monster – the demon – a secret. If it weren’t for the sudden burst of energy, what if it made him do something worse? It felt easy to say – to blame – the demon for Jacob’s actions, but deep down, there was some vindictive and ugly part of Jacob that wanted to say those things, to hurt his family. Still, he had no idea how the demon _knew_ about mum and dad. Maybe it could read minds?

Jacob shook his head, trying to clear the painful buzzing, but to no avail. He can still feel grief heavy in his chest, threatening to spill out. And it did.

“I’m sorry.” Jacob hugged the staff tighter, a… souvenir from a newly made friend. He tried to make himself smaller, maybe father would just leave him be then? After all that happened, Jacob doubted he deserved any forgiveness. Senriel said he can make anything happen in the dreamer’s realm, maybe he can live there instead, so that he doesn’t have to hurt anyone else. “You don’t have to take me home you… I’d just stay here in the woods.”

Father didn’t say anything, and his expression looked far from happy. Yet, he tightened his hold on Jacob all the same, clutching the boy tight to his chest.

Jacob’s brows furrowed, confused. Shouldn’t father be leaving him by then? He killed grandma, hurt dad and Evie, and set the house on fire. What if it already burnt down? It wouldn’t make sense to take Jacob home. Maybe the rain extinguished it, but after everything that happened, father should be furious. Not… worried.

“Father?” Jacob prodded again, hated the confusion. It just seemed so out of character for Ethan Frye. Nothing made sense anymore.

Eventually, they reached the clearing, fog and rain nearly obscuring the Frye home. Admittedly, their house was bordering on ‘estate’, but with the nearly Spartan rooms and sparse decorations, it didn’t scream wealth at all. It was passed down from some great-great-great-great grandfather or something who used to own a fortress. Most of it already worn down and weathered with age, the last time it was renovated was about ten years ago. Now, it was mostly made out bricks mass produced from Croydon. Some of the tiles were just recently replaced, but some around the chimney were already damaged from falling bricks. It wasn’t as grand as some of the other places father took them to when on a business meeting, but it was home all the same.

As father and son approached - Jacob can see the kitchen window where he escaped from, the glass fully melted and scorch marks surrounding the panes. The only lights visible were from Evie’s and father’s bedrooms, most of the place already cast in darkness.

 _“Jacob_ _…._ _”_ Someone called.

Said boy froze, knuckles white as he held on the staff. Father must have sensed something wrong, and his eyes focused, almost a luminescent gold in the darkness. If Jacob didn’t know it was the Sight, he would have ran away if he could. Whatever presence that left returned, and Jacob can feel its claws raking inside his skull, trying to find a way in. Its sharp talons trying to shred his head into pieces, but it was either Jacob’s own will or something else that kept the desire demon from getting in.

The ruby on the staff glowed with a blue inner light, casting the gem in a purple glow. There were etchings on the metal that looked like words, and it sent a comforting wave of strength through Jacob’s bones.

The desire demon seemed disappointed and picked a different approach. It tried caressing Jacob’s mind, whispering promises of what he wanted the most, what he yearned the most, if he let it in. An insidious warmth bloomed in Jacob’s chest, but he recognised the poison in its touch. The staff emanated a wave of energy, and it jolted the presence. Jacob can hear it growl in annoyance at the obstruction, looking for a foothold or another entryway to Jacob’s consciousness.

Father was already making his way to the opened backdoor, and then it slammed shut before he could enter. He tried twisting the knob, but it rattled instead.

“It’s here,” Jacob said.

Father sighed, eyes focused on the door. “I know. Whatever it is, it… hasn’t left.”

Something creaked inside the house. A loud moan followed it.

Father looked resolute and put Jacob down. The boy felt a wave of vertigo pass, nausea threatening to rise. He almost fell in a graceless heap, but father kept him steady. Carefully, Ethan led Jacob to the shed where he and Evie often chose as a hiding place for their ‘secret meetings’ whenever they played. It can be locked from the inside.

“Jacob, when you left, grandma hasn’t been well.” Jacob flinched in guilt. Yes, Jacob knew it was his fault, and he understood enough to know what it meant. Still, it was a strange choice of words for his father to use.

“But… isn’t she dead?” Jacob asked, biting his lip. “She died, we all saw it.”

Ethan Frye had the most peculiar expression, like he himself could hardly believe what just happened. His eyes still glowed with eagle vision, and his gaze followed something through the walls. He looked so intent on whatever it was he tracked.

“Not… exactly. Let’s just say she’s out and about, but it’s best she doesn’t see you or Evie, alright?” Father opened the shed and let Jacob in. “Whatever you do, don’t open the door unless… Evie or Uncle George fetches for you. You and Evie have your password, right?”

Jacob nodded solemnly, staff still in hand. He was about to pull the door shut, but father held on to it.

There was a conflicted expression on the elder Frye’s face, and then he bent down and ruffled Jacob’s hair before giving him a quick kiss in the forehead. “Jacob, son… you do know that I love you and I _am_ proud of you, right?”

“I…” Jacob took a deep breath, trying to fight the sob trying to get out of his throat. He met his father’s eyes, who looked so sad and guilty all at once. Jacob nodded, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. “Yeah… I do.”

Father didn’t look relieved, but he nodded all the same. He threw a box of matches at Jacob, and then shut the door. Jacob felt for the bolt and slid it securely.

There was a candle sitting on a stool in the Frye Twins’ shed, and Jacob was glad for the box of matches. Even if he felt wobbly and horrible, he managed to light a lick of flame and lit the candle. An orange glow filled the darkness, illuminating garden tools and some of the things used to maintain the house. There’s a chest full of training weapons, but Jacob just held on to the staff he somehow bought from the Fade.

He shivered from the cold, coughs racking his frame. The dust just made everything worse.

 

Jacob's throat and back itched, and everything felt hot and stuffy in the shed without any air going in and out while the lone candle emanated a strong heat on its own. Everything was still and silent, the only sound was Jacob's own laboured breathing, the tongue of flame flickering, and the rain pattering outside.

 

Father already told him not to open the shed until Evie or Uncle George came for him. Most of the time, Jacob would like to push his boundaries and test his limits, but this time he knew enough that it was a bad idea. Maybe it was a good thing that Jacob barely had any energy to do anything but stay awake until help came.

By the mean time, Jacob took to brushing the dust off his pants, but it was too wet and muddy to make any progress. It was hard to open the heavy chest full of training weapons as well, the lock was jammed and father had yet to fix it.

He still had Senriel’s staff, though.

It was made out of some… Ivory? It looks metallic, but it was a lot like bone on closer inspection. There were enormous golden scales in the snake carving, but it doesn't look like it belonged to any kind of reptile Jacob knew. It was too big and metallic to come from a snake. The dragon wings at the top of the staff and the handles were made from smooth leather with a web-like pattern not dissimilar to bat wings. The teeth clutching the ruby was carved a different kind of ivory, but it was similar enough to the material that made the staff itself. There were about three stones with runes on them inserted neatly into slots on the staff, all of them glowing with a hint of energy.

He traced the carvings, wandering what they meant. Jacob and Evie were just learning how to read. It was grandma teaching them. She can't teach them anymore now.

Something rustled outside, and trepidation filled Jacob. He turned on his eagle vision. There’s nothing outside.

The rustling stopped.

Feeling silly, Jacob forced himself to calm down and turn his Sight off. It was difficult, his heart thudded loudly and every breath he made felt like it echoed in the whole house.

The urge to open the door was there, but Jacob just held on to the staff.

He jumped when something scratched at the door. It wasn't very loud, and it sounded like small or weak hands were trying to pull the door open.

“Jacob,” someone whimpered. “I'm scared, let me in.”

“Evie?” Jacob whispered, crawled his way to the door and pressed his ear on the wood. “Is it safe now?”

“No! There's something wrong with Grandma, father is looking for her.” Evie sobbed, her sniffles muffled by the door. “I just ran away from grandma. She's looking for you, I'm scared. Please let me in.”

Jacob bit his lip. Well, father said to let Evie in… but he said he'd send Evie _after_ it was safe. But what if he had to send her because where she was hiding wasn't safe anymore? Besides, they had a password, Evie would have said it before knocking.

Still, there's something wrong. Something about the situation just did not sit right with Jacob.

Maybe it was a good thing that Jacob pulled the viewing slot open.

Jacob screamed and scrambled backwards, the stool where the candle stood clattered to the floor and killed the flame. Darkness shrouded the shed, but a flash of lightning illuminated the world outside.

Outside was a creature’s head looked like a fleshy spider covering, leaving only a mouth full of jagged teeth visible. On its back were spider legs, scratching at the door to force it open. It was mostly human looking - with an emaciated torso and torn robes. The flash of lightning cast its faceless featured in an eerie shadow.

“Jacob,” it spoke in Evie's voice. The air around it began to ripple, the demon sinking out of view. Another flash, and Jacob saw the same ripple inside the shed.

“What have you done with Evie!?”

“It's a secret!” It giggled. “Ready or not, here I come!”

Jacob scrambled for the bolt, trying to tug it loose. It stuck.

A skeletal arm began rising up from the role, and Jacob forced the bolt close before trying to open it again. He can hear the creature laughing, using Evie's voice when she's at her most happiest.

“Silly Jacob, if you only let us in, no one would have been hurt!”

If Jacob let them in, they would have hurt his family anyway. If his current predicament was anything to go by.

Another arm followed, and then Evie's laughter turned deeper, joined by hundreds of voices screaming. “Jacob, come play!”

The door refused to budge. Jacob took to slamming his fists on the door, but he was too weak even with adrenaline pumping in his veins. The door refused to budge.

“Father! Help!” Jacob cried, voice trembling. “Uncle George! Father!”

“No one will hear you scream, Jacob,” the demon growled, no longer using his sister's voice. “Just let us in, Jacob, and let the nightmare end.”

Half of its body was out now, and it towered over Jacob in the tiny space.

Desperate, Jacob threw all his strength at the door, gathering all his energy in a single blow.

Wood exploded, splinters flying all in the air, the hinges creaking with pressure. Jacob almost cried in relief, scrambling outside, despite the nausea, despite the fever. He scraped his knee on the wood. pain exploded, but he was too focused on running away. Somehow, he managed to take the staff during the commotion.

It was difficult to run in the mud, feet sinking on the earth in every step. Jacob gritted his teeth, lightning flashes.

“Jacob!” It was father's voice, terrified.

He chanced a glance and stumbled. Father and Uncle George were barely standing up, kukri and cane sword pointed at grandma… or to whatever it was that wore her skin. Her skin looks half-rotten in the short amount of time since her death. Her wrinkled face was already peeling off, her hair gone in clumps, blood and gore dripping off her skeletal face. Worse were her eyes, milky dead.

She opened her mouth, teeth yellowed and her gums a sickly green and black. Her voice rasped out, like nails on chalkboard. “Jacob,” she gurgled. “Let us in.”

Jacob scrambled further when she started making her way to him, somehow unhindered by the bone sticking out of her leg. Enormous gashes covered her body, her innards threatening to spill on the ground, but it looked like it didn't matter to her.

“You killed me,” she went on. “This is your punishment. Your despair.”

Jacob glanced behind him, the other demon already had its thin arms up, ready to catch Jacob should he stumbled backwards.

“Father!” It was Evie's voice that screamed, and she burst through the backdoor, hair a mess and ichor coating her dress. “There's something inside!”

It was enormous. A parody of man, with bipedal legs and muscular body. It easily towered over everyone, and it was laughing in a deep rumbling voice. It was mostly purple with spikes and scales covering it; it’s head lengthened to sharp points and into a pair of horns. Its six eyes focused on Jacob.

“Watch out!” Jacob called, but father and Uncle George's focus could not settle on the monster that followed Evie.

“They can't see us, Jacob. They can only see your grandmother's shell. We can easily kill them, all thanks to you,” the enormous demon laughed, deep like thunder. “Let us in and we will make sure that you will never have to worry about them ever again.”

The first demon - now in its true form - slinked somewhere to Jacob's left. It looked like a woman, naked but purple. Its bodies were mostly covered in scales, a pair of horns protruding from its forehead. “Give in. Don't you want to save your family?”

Jacob felt sick. He glanced at his wounded father and terrified sister. None of them had no idea what was going on. Not all of it anyway. Jacob glanced at the staff still in his hands. They were outnumbered. By demons. Surrounded on all sides. They can only see one out of the four.

If he accepted their demands, they will kill his family. If he refused, his family will still die. They already got grandma, he refused to let them take another.

“You want me because I'm a Dreamer - Somniari - right?” Jacob began, putting his weight on the staff. Father and Evie glanced at him in confusion, but there was something like realisation in father's eyes.

“Wait - Jacob -”

“Then come and get me!”’ Jacob let go of the staff, raising his arms in a welcoming gesture. He gathered all his energy, letting the heat build in his chest. He let it grow and stoked the flames, turned the embers into a roaring fire. However, he didn't let it go, simply let the pressure build, like his heart was a furnace.

The world flickered, The ground turned into dark stone, trees floated in the air, a city in the sky remained obscured in the darkness, and the whispers of the Fade sang an old lullaby. Then Jacob saw his family's eyes widen in horror at the true forms of the creatures haunting them. Father pulled Evie protectively behind him, while Uncle George raised his cane sword - ready to attack.

Yet none of the demons noticed it, too intent and greedy to claim a willing host. They all rushed at Jacob, forms blurring into multi-coloured lights.

Jacob held on to the flames in his chest, the fire - the _magic -_ begging to be released. Jacob waited, holding onto it until the right moment. His skin tingled with static, destructive magic waiting to be unleashed.

The demons materialised around him, clawing at one another to possess him first, to consume every part of him. Jacob screwed his eyes shut, but he didn't need it to sense how close they were getting to him.

The fire spread to his head, Jacob can only see white even with his eyes closed, blinding hot. He can feel them trying to claw at the walls Senriel built in his mind, trying to look for purchase.

Jacob loosened a little bit, and they were quick to rush with their mental assaults, trying to influence him with all the sins they embody.

Jacob can feel pride brushing over his head, desire draping across his back, fear grasping at his legs, despair digging into his chest. Then he opened his eyes.

Fire exploded.

A dome of white-hot fire combusted, turning rainwater into steam. The ground shook with the force of the explosion, earth flying into lava-like waves. The demons _screeched_ with their thousand voices, dissonant and pained. Jacob wondered if this was how stars died.

All too soon, the fire died, and Jacob let the white-hot fade from his vision.

There was an enormous crater beneath his feet, steam rising from the earth. Soot covered the stone, and Jacob can see some trees caught in the explosion burnt out to the point of looking like enormous matchsticks. Grandma's body was scorched black, practically charcoal, hands held up as if shielding herself from the brightness. Desire, Despair, and the Nightmare were already disintegrating into the Fade, green wisps disappearing into nothingness.

Pride, on the other hand…

Jacob stumbled back, dropping the staff.

Pride laughed and rose from his position. He had his hands held out like a shield.

The flames barely scorched his skin.

It laughed, throwing its head up to the sky. It was maddening. All of Jacob's efforts were barely enough to take down the behemoth of the demon.

Spent, Jacob can barely get up on his knees. Every drop of magic already spent on his improvised immolation spell. He could barely light a candle in this state. Without magic, it was hopeless to try and defeat the demon.

“Thank you, Jacob. That eliminated the competition very nicely. I'll be sure to take good care of your sister dearest.”

“No! Leave my _children_ alone!” Ethan roared, seemingly ignoring his wounds and exhaustion. The demon laughed and a whip made of lightning materialised in its hand. The wind cracked with every, and the demon struck at the approaching assassin.

“Father!”

The ground shook, a crack forming at the ground. The whip cleaved through the ichor slicked stone like a hot knife on butter and the length rose ready to take Ethan Frye's head.

Green light burst above father, Evie, and Uncle George's head, bathing them in magical energy. The green light had patterns similar to a leaf, veiny and vital. A blue aura surrounded Jacob's family, and the lightning whip deflected off from Ethan harmlessly. Jacob can see the wounds father and Uncle George had knitting themselves, accelerated healing encouraged by magic.

The demon tried again, but the aura held, its whip bouncing off into the ground.

“That's enough for today, _lethallin_.” A man emerged from the woods, a cowl obscuring his features. His clothes were ragged with age, but it still looked to be in good enough condition. He carried a walking stick with him that had an uncut crystal at the top, glowing faintly through the rain. “It's time for you to return home.”

The demon roared in indignation, raising his arm to strike at the stranger. The man slammed his staff, a wall of ice spikes protecting him. The whip cut through the frost, but the man punched the air in retaliation. A fist made of stone rose in the air and struck the demon. It flew in the air and hit a line of trees, splinters flying in the rain. Cracks formed in its hardened skin a deep purple glow leaking through.

The man raised his open palm and the air _ripped_ like fabric. Green light floated above the demon like silk in water, and the demon was too stunned to make anymore movements. It began to disintegrate, its body turning into wisps of green light before flying up to the tear.

Soon enough, it disappeared. The only thing left behind was a puddle of black ichor on the ground.

“I'm impressed,” the stranger began making his way to them. The world began to settle down, the trees stopped floating, the darkened stone returned to the muddy earth, and the floating city disappeared out of sight. Thankfully, the rain was long gone and sunlight peeked through the horizon. “You managed to kill three demons on your own, despite your age.”

Jacob flinched. “But I let one of them in.”

The stranger chuckled, something about him was old and knowledgeable. More so than father. “Desire demons are insidious creatures. They take the form of what you want the most and use it to lure their victims. Lesser men fell for it, but you have not. Not fully.”

The stranger approached, but father found the strength to block him. “You saved our lives, but I can't just let you touch my son. Just who are you?”

The stranger tilted his head, considering. Then, he removed his cowl. He was bald, for one, but what stood out were his long ears tapered like a knife. Another elf, then. “Andaran atish’an, lethallin. My name is Solas. One of the few survivors of a world long past, of the Elvhenan.”

“You're not from the First Civilisation? Not the Precursors?” Ethan lowered his kukri, but his grip was still deathly. “What just happened… That wasn't - it's supposed to be impossible.”

Solas regarded him patiently, glancing towards Jacob who was already making his way to his father's side.

“I find it peculiar the the Isa think of them as the first when they arrived in a world rising from the ashes of destruction. Sadly, those few of us who knew the world before the Isa are few and far between. Memories of the land - of Thedas - had long been destroyed. Memories of magic long forgotten, which is why you may find such to be impossible, despite what some of you may believe in.” Solas raised his hand and green veilfire sprouted. “Magic is not what it used to be, and many fall prey to demons. We once had the knowledge to fight them, but most are all gone now.”

“Magic is real?” Evie piped up, fear forgotten in favour of looking at the cold flames in the elf's hand.

“Yes it is, dalen.” Solas gestured for her to come closer. Reluctantly, father let her. He placed the flames in her fans, but it did not consume her. Rather, Evie carried it with all the wonder of a child when Christmas came early. “I find it ironic to that now magic is scarce, many wish to have it.”

The veilfire extinguished, but Evie looked content to have held the flame. Solas looked rather happy about it, his blue eyes glittering.

“I take it that that wasn't the case in your time?” Uncle George looked contemplative, focused on Solas's ears. “Not everyone are very… Enthusiastic about magic and the occult, but those are people from rather Puritan groups.”

“Ah yes, that is true. Mages were once held in gilded cages called as Circles, with a group called Templars watching over them and hunting them down should they escape.” Solas gave the two assassins a look at the mention of Templars. “They are not the Templars you know, but they denied the freedom of others all the same.”

“It's a good thing they're the bad guys, right?” Jacob tried to lighten the mood, but now that the excitement was over, he can feel his head ache and the cold biting in his bones. “Senriel didn't say much about them, other than some were nice enough to quit.”

“You met Senriel?” Solas focused on Jacob. “How is he? Did he tell you where he - no, of course not - but did he seem interested in what is going on around you?”

Jacob shifted, trying to remember some of the conversation he had with the other elf. “Well, he's a kid smaller than me, but he said that he's older. He asked a lot of stuff about well… Factories, electricity and the other things he saw in my… Memories? I guess. He didn't mention you though, if you were friends.”

Solas heaved a sigh, disappointed, but unsurprised. “That is to be expected. Although I find it strange he took a form of a child. He's rarely been one for subtlety.”

Father cleared his throat and picked up Jacob who was starting to sway in his feet. “We have enough excitement for the day. Jacob has a fever running and none of us had slept since last night. If it's possible, Solas, I would like to rest for now with my family. I still do want to discuss a few things, if it's possible.”

As if on cue, the twins yawned at the same time.

Solas nodded. “Of course. I'd set up wards as well, to avoid attracting any more attention from malicious presences. Many are drawn to Jacob due to his abilities.”

Ethan nodded, and with some effort, picked up Evie next. She barely protested at being carried, and slumped next to her brother. With a sleepy twin in each arm, Ethan made his way inside, he noted that George wasn't following. Before he got in the door, Solas called him.

“I recommend not leaving Jacob alone for now. He may be subjected to strange dreams. It would be comforting to find a familiar face to assure himself what truly is real.”

“Very well then.” Ethan turned back to retiring for the day, utterly exhausted. However, he paused. “Thank you, for saving our lives. If you need a place to stay, you're welcome here.”

George remained unmoving from his spot, looking no worse for wear. When than gestured for him to follow, he just held a hand up. “We still need to take care of Cecily's mother - and the council - they will want to know what happened.”

Ethan turned, clutching his children protectively. “What will you tell them of Jacob?”

He noted that Solas was staring intently at his student, hands on his staff.

“He's just a child, isn't he? I'm sure they would find it hard to believe that a six year old to be capable of making an explosion two metres wide. An explosion powerful enough to cause considerable destruction.” He turned to Solas. “Besides, our new friend here might know a thing or two.”

Amusement flickered in Solas's expression. “How very flattering. Very well, if they have further questions, I'd be more than happy to answer.”

Ethan nodded. “Thank you.”

With that, he left the two to their own devices.

Solas padded over where Senriel's - now Jacob's - staff laid. “It's rather fortunate that they share an element, otherwise Jacob wouldn't have had enough focus to cast such a destructive spell.”

“Did you plan this?” George began, his sword pointed behind Solas. “Is this some sort of trick?”

“I'm afraid not, Ser Westhouse. The potential for magic had always have been there. It just so happened that the demons you encountered may have been waiting for years for a chance that Jacob could be alone. That's when they struck.” Solas gestured to where the pride demon died. “Spirits and demons perceive time differently. A minute is no different from a century for them.”

George hummed, content with Solas's answers for now and sheathed his blade. ”Where did it come from? Ethan said the exact same staff is in Cecily's possessions, except it was divided into pieces. The magic must have come _somewhere_.”

“It does.” Solas stood up, a staff in each hand. “Cecily Frye is a descendant from a family of mages during my time. The magic passed on from parent to child, but the power would sometimes skip a generation. Her father may have left a record somewhere.”

“Why aren't there - wait. We do have legends about dragons and magic, we always attributed it to the First Civilisation. Did this belong to your… era?” George then knelt by the blackened corpse of Mildred Howell née Davies. Her death was a cruel one, but George hoped that she’s in a better place now.

“Yes.” Solas made his way to the corpse, murmuring in a language George didn't understand. “I have already cast a spell so that her spirit would be in peace. Her death is a violent one, and we will need to fortify your mentor's home.”

“Are you sure you haven't been watching us as well? You know a great deal about the Frye's than you should.”

“Dreams reveal a lot of things. Come, I'm sure that your other watchers would be curious about what happened last night.

 

* * *

 

 

They were in a creepy looking temple. Senriel was staring at a mural of a dragon flying over the many phases of the moon. There were more dragon statues floating around, made in gold and black crystal. There were only three walls, made out of onyx, the place where the fourth should be showed a view of the floating city.

“Senriel?” Jacob approached the elven boy. He stood atop a slab made out of marble, inlaid with more dragons. There's a table next to it, with a bowl and a big and ornate silver dagger. “What is this place?”

“We're in Lusacan’s Temple, the Path to the Night.” Jacob glanced around him.

There were impressions of bodies kneeling obeisance, worshipping the dragon depicted in the temple. A couple of spirits re-enacted a sacrifice. Jacob turned away.

“He was the last Archdemon. He bought all the Darkspawn and every last drop of the Blight into the surface - broodmothers and all. The Blight ended with fire raining from the skies, destroying the world a second time.” Senriel dropped down on the floor, dusting off his shirt. “I see you met Solas.”

Jacob nodded. “Are there more elves around? He feels…. Old.”

“He is. Older than me too.” Senriel stretched like a lazy cat. He turned to Jacob, grinning. “You killed three demons - one of them possibly the oldest desire demon ever, and all on your own.”

Jacob turned pink at the praise, a bashful smile on his face. It was hard making the enormous fire. Senriel taught him that immolate, showed him how to shape his magic into destructive flames. It wasn't easy, but it was worth it.

They exited the chamber and ended up in the courtyard from the day before. The floating city was still on sight, moving along Jacob's periphery as he glanced around. Senriel stared at two spirits imitating two mages sparring.

“Solas said the world for destroyed twice. Were you there?” Jacob sat cross-legged, biting his lips. “Do you know what destroyed it?”

“Yes and yes.” Senriel glanced at the floating city, mostly obscured by clouds. “Blights caused them. Thankfully none will follow ever again.”

“Oh…” Jacob frowned. “What's a Blight?”

Senriel hummed, and then set across Jacob. “It's like a sickness. It hurts the land, kills plants and makes it hard to use for building stuff. Hurts people and animals, makes them very weak and destroys the body inside out.”

“And something destroyed it, with fire?” Jacob prodded, far more interested in the world of magic and dragons.

“Yes, but at the last Blight, it also destroyed most of the First Civilisation - which is a good thing. If only that was enough to destroy all the Pieces of Eden as well.” Senriel mused. “Oh well, what else do you want to know? If I can't answer, ask Solas. He's older.”

Then Jacob proceeded to question the elf, asking whatever that came into mind.

In the waking world, Ethan Frye cradled his children in a protective embrace. Father and sister may not be accompanying Jacob in the Fade, but he could feel their presences just the same.

Maybe things will turn out alright.


	3. interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all began on the Sixth Blight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory for Senriel and maybe some insight on how his mind works. He becomes the Inquisitor at sixteen, so he wasn't considered an adult yet to get a Vallaslin. Anyway... I do appreciate comments though. :)

_Brecillian Forest_  
9:30 Dragon  
Unknown timeline before the War of Unification

When Senriel was five years old, mamae died from a hunting trip.

One day, he was playing tag with children in the clan, a little put-out because Tellan said he was ‘becoming a man now, and need to train to be great hunter like mamae!’. He didn’t particularly care much about hunting, but he loved the feasts after a successful hunt. There’s singing and dancing, and the Keeper and the apprentices dancing in a large pit fire in the middle of the camp.

One day, Senriel hoped that he can dance in the flames and not burn.

It was a typical day. The sun wasn’t too high, and a pleasant breeze flew in the air. Senriel was with another child, giggling as another tried to climb up, playing as Fen’Harel and the Creators. They all stopped when the clan’s horn rang in the air, loud and blaring.

Curious, the children that played Creators shimmied one by one down the tree. Nothing else struck Senriel then as familiar, except he can remember playing Elgar’nan. He was always Elgar’nan because he _loved_ getting even.

All the adults in the clan were shouting and running, and some of the Hah’ren led them off away from the camp's entrance and to where the halla were kept. Senriel saw Tellan running to the opposite direction, and he quietly slipped away from the group and followed his older brother.

He made sure to sneak behind his brother, ducking into crates and worktables or pretending to be running along with the adults. Senriel can feel something was wrong. His usual sneaking game wasn't as fun because Tellan was frowning and everyone was shouting.

Soon enough, Senriel was close to the entrance again and he can see mamae's hunting party limping their way inside the camp. Keeper Laina was with the hunting party.

First to the Keeper, Deshanna Istimaethoriel, held Keeper Laina, tears brimming in their eyes.

“North, we need to go north.” Keeper Laina choked and heaved, black spurting out of her mouth. Istimaethoriel avoided it. More of their hunting party were being taken in, black dripping from their eyes, ears, mouths.

Senriel wanted to hide behind Tellan, but he was frozen behind a half-opened aravel, wondering where mamae could be.

Soon enough, the entire hunting party was there, laid down in stretchers made of wood and hide.

Senriel tried to ignore the growing cold in his stomach. Tellan was next to mamae, holding his dagger out. All the hunters and the Keeper have someone by their side, holding on to something sharp.

Slowly, many bought their daggers up, and Senriel can feel his fear roar like a dragon inside his head.

“Tellan, no!” Senriel burst through his cover, rushing towards his brother. “Don't hurt mamae! She's just sick!”

Tellan’s blue-gold eyes were wide with panic, a little red from crying, but _resolute_. Senriel steeled himself, because all the adults were being stupid, and Senriel heard some of his playmates rush out of their own covers.

Senriel wanted to cry, but how will Tellan take him seriously if he acted like a baby. He clenched both fists and raised his chin at his brother. “Don't hurt mamae, please. If Keeper Laina gets better, mamae will get better, right?”

“Oh Senriel,” it was Selanni, but she sounded like mamae whenever she talked about papae. “This is the only way to help.”

“Senriel, look.” Tellan grabbed him by the shoulders and made Senriel to look at their mamae before leeting go. “Do you want mamae to live like this forever?”

Mamae’s black hair were thinning, almost exposing her skull. Open sores grew on her flesh, her face was already sunken in - hollow cheeks and bugged eyes. Her eyes were milky and unfocused, her blue-gold more like white-grey. Her breaths came in and out ragged, like she can't breathe.

“But… mamae…”

“Please,” she rasped. Senriel just wanted her to get better and sing them lullabies and cook roasted boar full of herbs and fruits. Tellan can't….

“I'm so sorry,” mamae sobbed and looked at Tellan. Tellan was biting his lips, tears rolling down his eyes. His hands shook as he held the dagger, so close to mamae's neck. Suddenly, she shrieked and snatched Tellan’s arm.

“Mamae-”

With a sudden strength, she drove it through her chest, black exploding like a parody of a fountain. She writhed and trembled, black pooling out of her mouth and nose while she choked. Then, her grip felt limp.

Senriel took a step back, and another, and another, and another and-

His back hit an aravel.

Senriel glanced around him, his playmates sobbing and crying as family and friends were then taken outsise.

Tellan let go of the dagger.

He was tremblibg, but he trying to smile. “Hey, buddy.”

Senriel had no idea what just happened.

“I know it’s pretty scary, but you still have me, okay?” Tellan was biting his lips, and tears kept falling from his eyes. “You still have me.”

Tellan approached Senriel the same way one would approach a skittish dog. Unable to stop his emotions, Tellan sobbed and grabbed Senriel and trapped him in a bone-crushing hug. He held on to Senriel like Senriel was the last person in the world and if Tellan let go, Senriel would disappear too.

Eventually, First to the Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel rose, murmuring a prayer to Falon'din to guide their keeper. It was rare for a Keeper to accompany a hunting party. The Blight shouldn't be _this_ close to Denerim.

“What do we do?” Some of the younger hunters asked. Everyone was murmuring. Many of the masters of the clan were dead. The best hunters were gone too. Their Keeper - gone with the party.

“North,” Istimaethoriel began, taking Keeper Laina's staff. “That is Keeper Laina's last command. We go north.”

Istimaethoriel nodded at some of the hunters who began piling the bodies together, ready to take them outside the camp. To burn the remains.

Fir- Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel held vigil, chanting prayers and asking guidance from Falon'din to guide their dead to the Beyond, to peace.

Their dead were covered in linen, kindling spread across each and every one. A worldly possession was held in their hands, something to bring in the afterlife.

Senriel clutched release Tellan’s hand throughout while everyone sang in morning, voices drifting through the clearing. The moon was full that night.

Senriel scanned the bodies, looking for his mamae’s, wondering why they're so far. Then his gaze landed on a seashell held by a leather cord.

It was papae’s.

“Tellan, why is papae’s charm there?” Senriel tugged on his brother's arm, pointing at where their mamae's body lay. “That's the only thing we have of papae!”

Tellan was biting his lip. “Yes, dalen, but that will help mamae find papae in the Beyond.”

Senriel looked down, clenching his free hand. Keeper Istimaethoriel lit up a torch, and then threw at the very centre, where there was the most kindling.

The fire easily spread, bodies bursting into flame one by one. Smoke rose into the sky, and the embers cast an orange glow in the clearing.

Mamae’s body was starting to turn black around the edges, the fire easily spreading through the linen. The charm glowed, old enchantments reacting to the fire.

That was the last thing Papae and Mamae had from each other.

Decision made, Senriel let go of Tellan and then jumped into the flames. Senriel easily snatched their mamae's charm and held it close. He heard his brother screaming, Keeper Istimaethoriel trying to kill the flames with ice magic, but it was too big and too strong.

Senriel stood in the flames and did not burn.

“Senriel?” Tellan called out, hesitant. “Are you alright?”

Senriel watched the flames, let it lick his skin and caress his soul. Then he looked at his brother, eyes brighter than the flames.

“I'm okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _In a forest near Wycome_  
9:41 Dragon  
Unknown timeline before the War of Unification

Senriel set a small patch of the forest on fire.

Again.

Tellan and Selanni helped him kill the flames, though!

Again.

With a well-timed Blizzard, and Tellan and Senriel stomping any dry patches, it took about half an hour to stop the forest fire before it began. Senriel was laughing the whole way, much to his Hah'rens chargin.

“How did you do it this time?” Selanni cast another Blizzard for good measure, and she held it for about two more minutes before Selanni finally dissipated it. She sounded accusing, although amused. “Last time, you said you were practicing fire resistance.”

“Barrier practice,” Senriel replied with a straight face. “I was practicing barriers.

“Barrier practice, Andruil's tits, why did you almost set the whole of the Free Marches ablaze?” Tellan sagged down into a squat, and then buried his face in Selanni’s lap. He continued, muffled. “What if a rogue Templar or something sees you? They won't think ‘10-year-old prepubescent elf’, they'd think ‘knife-eared abomination.’ or something.”

Selanni nodded in agreement.

“Then I set them on fire,” Senriel nodded sagely. He was scowling at the jab at his age, however. “And what do you mean ten year old? I'm fifteen - almost sixteen next month!”

“You're missing the point, baby brother.” Tellan shifted until his head was right on Selanni’s lap. He was staring at the clouds. “We get that, yeah you like magic and, but we kinda want you to think about your safety. Like, I mean, look. What will you do if some Templar found Selanni practicing magic and killed her? Or worse, turn her tranquil?”

“I'd hunt them down and kill them in their sleep?” Senriel replied almost cheerfully. Selanni raised a brow at the younger elf, while Tellan gave him a withering glare. “What? That's exactly what I'd think I'd do.”

“Sweet Dirthamen’s arse, are you sure you're not Elgar'nan in mortal form?” Before Senriel can answer, Tellan continued. “That's absolutely the reason why people think we're barbaric savages.”

Selanni cleared her throat. “First of all, if Senriel really is Elgar'nan, he won't be good in barrier. Second, barbaric savage is redundant. You'll just cancel it out.”

“First, you're a hunter, the fuck why you're well-read?” Senriel sat cross-legged, eyes narrowed at Tellan. “Second, I'm pretty sure if you kill a nobleman, his wife and kids will set your house on fire too, so that's kind of even.”

Tellan groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Mythal help me.”

“What I believe Senriel meant to say is, he knows his limits enough to call for help when he knew situation is out of hand.” Selanni removed Tellan's long hair from its ponytail and began to braid it. “Second, he won't let it happen because he's very protective.”

“Yes, she's absolutely right,” Senriel nodded eagerly. “All points covered.”

“You're just being a yes-man, Senriel. Or yes-elf, whatever.” Tellan shifted again to allow Selanni easier access to his hair. “What happened to freedom of self-expression and putting your ideas out there? What happened to debating your point of view?”

“Well, big brother of mine, when your stance is the same as your colleagues, it's pointless to argue if it's the same point.” Senriel shook his head. “Therefore, your line of questioning is null and void, it does not bring anything new to the table.”

“You're sixteen, why the fuck are _you_ well-read? Shouldn't your mind be on dicks or tits?”

“Why can't I have books and scholarly debate in mind?” Senriel looked up to stare at the clouds. “Besides, I'm an arse-man. Dick or tits hold no appeal, but a well-rounded rump is just hot, okay? You can’t get wrong with a good hindquarters.”

“I am not understanding this attraction to body parts,” Selanni finished the braid, admiring her work. Tellan sat up, and the braid fell on his lower back. He began to admire it as well. “Why is everyone so obsessed with body parts? If I say I’m obsessed with running my tongue on someone’s eyeball, I would get weird looks.”

“We don’t expect you to understand. You have long since proven you do not feel any kind of attraction to body parts,” Telann began and sat up. He started dusting off some of the dirt. He pulled his brother and cousin next, and the trio of Lavellans began to make their way to camp. The walk was leisurely, there was no rush in returning. Their camp was just so far away from humans that none of them were worried by bumping into hostile ones.

Eventually, they made it around noon, greeting clansmen as they all headed to Tellan’s aravel.

“Seriously, Tellan.” Senriel plopped gracelessly on the handmade pillows and woven blankets. “Why are you well read? I mean, it has absolutely nothing to do with hunting.”

“I want to be a diplomat.” Tellan was already pulling a thick tome, opening it on a dog-eared page. “You know how stories about Arlathan go, about the Elvhenan. We used to be an Empire, and you know Orlais and Tevinter. They have ambassadors and diplomats - maybe we used to have too. I mean, I don’t think things will change if the default reaction to humans would be ‘murder them with knives’ just in case we bump into them.”

“We’re not exactly that kind of clan,” Senriel pointed out, shaking his head. “First, we get regularly bi-weekly supply runs to whatever Free Marcher city-state we pass by. Second, we just literally hid a human apostate from Kirkwall before he left on his merry way. Third, we give a tour to any passing humans that don’t scream at sight.”

Tellan laughed, ruffling Senriel’s hair. “Not just us, silly! Other clans too! I mean, of course, not everyone will be fine and dandy with change and stuff. But how can we really move forward if we just keep on trying to relive something that’s been dead for years. This is our life now, and we should do something about it.”

The younger elf stared, tilting his head. “That’s very inspiring.”

Tellan grinned, a light blush across his cheeks. “Thanks.”

“But almost every other clan likes comparing bows, which sword is longer, nu-uh, my arrow can pierce anything. So, good luck convincing others.” Tellan threw a pillow at his younger brother. Senriel retaliated by tackling the taller elf, brawling inside their cramped aravel.

“Dirthamen’s dick! Senriel - no!” The tinier elf sat on the elder’s chest, tickling Tellan’s sides. The hunter laughed uproariously, tears forming uncomfortably in his eyes. “I yield! I yield!”

Senriel didn’t stop until Tellan was breathless, knew that the elder might spring vengeance. Well, Tellan wouldn’t. It wasn’t exactly Tellan’s thing. It was Senriel’s.

“Are you done?” Selanni opened the aravel, peeking through the crack. “Tellan, Keeper Istimaethoriel is calling for you.”

Both brothers sat up and got out of the aravel. Tellan was already making his way to the Keeper’s aravel when the First grabbed the Second on his sleeve. “Just your brother. And it’s private.”

Senriel frowned, but let the matter rest. He had a feeling it had something to do with the ongoing war with the humans. Mages against Templars. Its influence reached far too often to count, ever since it began. It posed a terrible risk to the clan’s safety. Especially for the Keeper and her apprentices.

Tellan had been called more than twice in a week, and it worried Senriel to no end as to what it could mean.

He berated himself for the forest fire he almost caused, knew that if Templars caught wind of it, it may have been over for him and Selanni. Still, he wanted to grow stronger, so that he could protect them.

Selanni and Senriel spent the whole day practicing lightning magic, trying mostly in vain to redirect their lightning strikes to intended targets instead of nearby metal. It was difficult to redirect the current, and Senriel almost gave up thrice that day. Selanni spent most of that time distracting him.

Eventually, dusk began to settle, and Senriel breathed in relief when he saw Tellan approach.

His relief was short-lived.

He had a very serious expression, and it terrified Senriel. It was the same expression he had the night Mamae died. No matter how hard Senriel tried to forget, he will always remember that night. Every now and then, spirits re-enacted that scene; sometimes in the way how Senriel saw it, other times was probably how Tellan did, and the rest of the other times Senriel had no idea.

His brother looked resolute, ready to march to war and never come back. Senriel pretended to sleep that night, let his breathing even out and let his eyes flutter close naturally. He was too restless to sleep that night, saw past Tellan’s fake smile after supper.

The mage had his back to the hunter, made all the natural movement for someone asleep, but tried not to have his ears twitch too much at the slightest noise. Eventually, Tellan rose on his own, shifted carefully to avoid ‘disturbing’ Senriel.

He can see his older brother at the corner of his eyes, infinitely glad that elves can see in the dark, but tried to make sure that the glint in his eyes wasn’t noticeable. Tellan grabbed his bow and quiver, sheathed his daggers in their usual holsters. He had a rucksack with him, and the older elf began to fill it with clothes.

Senriel’s heart skipped a beat.

His brother was leaving?

Senriel tried not to clench his fists, forced himself to relax; but his blood was pounding and he can feel the heat of his magic racing in his veins. Senriel breathed through his nose, trying so hard not to breathe so shallowly and so obviously that it caught Tellan’s attention.

Eventually, Tellan was probably too deep in thought to notice that his younger brother was awake. Tellan gently opened the aravel, stepped out as light as he can, and closed it quietly. Senriel heard a piece of paper being slotted through a hole in the wood. Senriel sat up and began making rudimentary preparations of his own, ready to follow the older to wherever he was headed.

Tellan packed light, and so did Senriel. About a week’s worth of clothes should be enough. There were plenty of rivers to wash them with.

Senriel waited until he was sure that Tellan was no longer close by. Then he pushed the aravel open and closed it as gently. The clan guards were already making patrols, and Senriel had no desire to get caught.

He stuck close to the shadow, even though he knew that elves can see in the dark. However, that would help give him some cover, and maybe some of the guard will probably dismiss him like some trick in the light. There were barely any torches around, seeing that they don't exactly need it.

Maybe it was a good thing that Tellan was paranoid enough to reach Senriel to sneak the moment he learned how to walk.

Senriel wasn't as good as Tellan was though. When faced with an experienced hunter, Senriel's uneven breathing gave him away sometimes. Other times, the elf lost focus and would step in something to cause noise or accidentally brush against foliage. His insistence to bring his staff along would also probably catch a Hunter's eye easily. Or a Templar’s. Or a paranoid human’s even.

Which was why Senriel requested the Clan craft master to design a staff that can be broken into components. Senriel had to get the material himself, and ironbark was difficult to find. Senriel had Tellan haggle with a human jeweler when they were passing by Tantervale to get a good price on an uncut ruby. Getting silverite for the blade was a nightmare on on itself as well. When Senriel got his custom staff though, his first act was to set about a hundred metres of the forest in fire.

Keeper Istimaethoriel wasn't as unamused as she made it out then, and simply put the fire out with Selanni with two Blizzards. They were moving to a different area anyway, so it worked out fine.

Tellan moved quick across the forest, and it was hard to keep track of him if not for a tracker spell Senriel used on a charm his brother carried. It had some of his blood, and Senriel was uneasy about it because that was the only way the spell would have worked. As long as Senriel didn't use it for something nefarious, it's fine, right?

Tellan refused to walk on the forest path, but that was fine with Senriel. The older elf would probably end up somewhere close to a civilisation anyway. It felt like hours of walking, and Senriel was afraid that there would be no end in sight for Tellan.

Eventually, Tellan stopped, and Senriel had to as well. He ended up in a clearing and began setting up camp, gathering wood and stones for a small pit. Senriel sighed in relief and looked for a good tree to perch on. It wouldn't be comfortable, but at least its a good place to sleep away from bears. They'd be put off by the fire as well.

The air was chilly, but Senriel had enough body heat comparable to a furnace. His rucksack was good enough to be a pillow and he did have a blanket packed together with his belongings.

Senriel made sure that the perch was covered by enough branches to hide him, just in case Tellan woke up early. At least, that would buy him enough time to prepare following his brother.

That night, Senriel dreamt of walking in the middle of the camp in his small clues, and he ended up yelling awake.

Senriel glanced around his surroundings in confusion. First, he fell asleep in a tree, not in a branch. Second, Tellan was giving him the stink eye and looked ready to strangle him.

“Shit.” Senriel hits under his blanket, pretended to sleep. “I'm not here.”

“Senriel….” Tellan began. “Any good reason why you're following me?

“Any good reason why you left without a word - okay you did leave a note.” Senriel blew a stray strand of hair. Senriel sat cross-legged, staring defiantly at Tellan. “You're the only family I have left, and you had this look in your eyes like the time mamae died.”

Tellan's glare softened, and then he sighed sadly. “I know a losing fight when I see one. I'm sending a crow to Keeper Istimaethoriel when we get to Kirkwall.”

“Left a note,” Senriel informed, plopping back into the makeshift cot Tellan made.

“Still, I'm pretty sure the Keeper will want to know.”

Senriel shrugged and went straight back to sleep.

Tellan explained that there were rumours of a Conclave of sorts, in Ferelden. It wasn't quite sure just yet, seeing as the human holy woman was probably shouting at the two factions to stop fighting like children. Don't get Senriel wrong, he can still remember the human apostate explaining what life was like in the Circle if one wasn't born into nobility, and that just sucked arse. So Senriel was pretty much inclined to hoping that mages win so that the Dalish wouldn't feel to send off extra mage children into the woods.

Tellan had a habit of hoarding. Thankfully, it did not extend to keeping whatever it was that he hoarded inside their aravels, usually making planned trips to cities or villages to sell what he can or trade it off for something they needed. Maybe it was a rogue thing too. Either way, Senriel’s eyes were wide as Tellan counted about two hundred gold for their travel.

“You think this is pretty impressive, but everything is fucking expensive in Thedas.”

It took them two weeks to get to Ferelden; spent two and a half of those weeks trying not to get seasick as they sailed to Amarinthe. Senriel was about ready to kiss the land when they reached the docks, but being cramped in a ship not made for passengers for two weeks just made him want to take a bath.

A pair of elves garnered them suspicious looks when they entered the city; Tellan got all the hostile looks because of the Vallaslin, but he mostly kept a genial expression that often had humans throw off their guard at how pleasant he was even if he was an elven savage. Senriel barely caught people’s glances. He may be dressed Dalish, but he had no Vallaslin to prove it.

The alienage earned them even more looks, but a lot of it were of admiration. Senriel knew that’s how most alienages saw them whenever they passed by one. The elves from these places tend to be generous, often showed them hospitality. Their stay in an alienage inn was practically free, including the food. If it weren’t for Tellan insisting that their city-fellows accept the sovereigns, their stay in Kirkwall would have been completely free.

“We should get new clothes,” Tellan mentioned after getting some news about the current situation with the Mage-Templar war. “Wherever we go, we just scream Dalish, and that just makes people look.”

They settled on some neutral looking light armours. Senriel found a red scarf he liked and kept it tied into aknot in his neck, while Tellan got something green. The pauldrons were a little heavy, and it only ached if Senriel ended up standing for too long. His apprentice robes did garner some attention before, but the humans just disregarded it as a ‘Dalish Elf thing’. They did pass by a couple Templars, and Senriel just acted casually to avoid their attention. Apparently, there were rumours about a ‘rebel knife-ear blood mage’ hiding in Kirkwall, hence their presence.

The Lavellan brothers didn’t stay long enough to find out what will happen next.

The journey to the Hinterlands were harsh, but Tellan wasn’t the best hunter for nothing.

Senriel did get tired of roasted ram eventually, and had taken to finding whatever fruit he can that won’t have a human throwing arrows at him. He did fill up a rucksack full of elfroot. Just in case.

Eventually, they reached Haven. It was just as cold and miserable like Ferelden. Senriel knew they were originally from Ferelden and the Blight just forced their clan to move across the sea. Even then, on the brief snatches of memory, it wasn’t _this_ cold or miserable.

Senriel ended up clutching Tellan’s scarf for most of the travel up to Haven. He did let go whenever there were people nearby. Senriel didn't want to appear scared.

There were _so many_ Templars. And mages.

The presence of both groups didn’t make Senriel feel any better, because both seemed to be on the edge of flinging swords and fireballs at each other. Senriel hated it. He was a tiny kid all over again, clinging to his big brother’s sleeve for comfort.

Eventually, they reached the inn, but it was bursting with pilgrims and other factions to accommodate two more elves.

“We have to camp,” Tellan decided, and Senriel was quick to pull him to one of the spots where they can set up a tent.

The Conclave was in two weeks, and both brothers took the opportunity to gather as much information as possible.

The day before the Conclave, Tellan and Senriel Lavellan settled in their camp, supper long finished, and were simply content to stare at their campfire.

“What do you think will happen tomorrow?” Senriel asked, tempted to touch the flames. The Templars and mages kept away from each other and didn't try to attack or provoke the other, something both elves were thankful for.

Tellan shrugged. “No idea.”

Senriel skilled, hopeful. “Well, I wish everyone lays down their weapons. I just want peace.”

Tellan ruffled Senriel's hair, smiling fondly. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

 _Halamshiral_  
9:44 Dragon  
Unknown timeline before the War of Unification

Senriel kept adjusting the high collar, irritated at the stiffness. Cullen looked to be the same, and gave him sympathetic looks. Why did they have to ride slowly across Halamshiral’s courtyard?

He did, however, stuck his tongue out at a bunch of Fereldan humans jeering at him. It was a good thing they were just Arl Eamon’s guards.

“Senriel,” Josephine began. “Please let it go, just for today?”

The elf shrugged and did what was asked, knowing that antagonising the Fereldans wouldn't exactly help his case with keeping the Inquisition together. As much as he'd want to just set the whole palace on fire, it would kill his friends too.

Senriel frowned.

No word of Solas at all, the prick. After all the shite they all went through, the tears, the laughter, and the embarrassing naked nights for Cullen -Solas _left._ Okay, everyone else did, but they _wrote_ letters at least. Solas didn't even leave a note, just showed up in what was left of Haven then busted out. To say that Senriel was sulking about it was an understatement.

“Sen - smile? Please?” Josephine padded, and Senriel let his lips curve into a familiar mischievous grin, but his mind kept wandering to the Exalted Council and Leliana.

The elf had to wonder if she was as scary as she used to be when he was sixteen. At eighteen, he grew about an inch so he's probably an inch shorter than her now. That's without the heels.

“Can't I just go back to the field and just blow demons up into kindling? I don't really care if they disband the Inquisition, just give me something I can set fire with.” Josephine and Cullen gave him amused smiles, and Senriel patted himself on the back mentally. At least he's not the only one comforted by his own jokes.

The Orlesian sun was very jarring, after months of being used to Skyhold’s chill, it felt like fire. It wasn't bad, per se, as Senriel element _was_ fire, with spirit right next. Best barriers on Thedas. Not even Solas can pull off his special barriers. He was almost useless at ice though; except for gathering mana, fade steps, and the occasional winter's grasp. That's why they had Vivienne, even if he did think of her as a stuck-up elitist snob. Unlike Dorian, he's as real as a noble can get.

“We're almost there,” Cullen pointed, his relief soothing Senriel's nervous energy. Finally, Senriel can loosen up the fitted collar and maybe relax before the Exalted Council began.

They passed through the gates and Senriel jumped from his horse. He stretched a little, tried not to relax too much that would have Orlesian nobles giving him a stink eye for being a savage Dalish snob. Or a lazy elf slave. The lack of vallaslin confused people.

His chest made a painful pang. He never did get the chance to get his vallaslin, and it wouldn't be the same to get it from the other clans they met in the Dales. Varric did write that he was looking for survivors, and Sera mentioned that she had people in Wycome looking into it.

Senriel shook his head, refused to let the negativity pull him down. He was on the Winter Palace to make sure the Inquisition wouldn't be disbanded and to keep it as a safe place for mages and others alike. It's somewhere outcasts can go to in search for refuge.

An Orlesian valet greeted them and led Senriel, Cullen, and Josephine past the vestibule and to the western wing.

Their men were given quarters in a nearby barracks for the Imperial guard, while Senriel and his two advisors were given their own guest quarters with a room for each one. There was only just one bathroom, but it was luxurious enough for the three of them.

Senriel was exhausted, and it was a miracle that he managed to strip and change into sleep clothes. The bed was soft and comfortable, and Senriel fell asleep almost immediately after burying himself in blankets and pillows.

Skyhold had spoiled him, Senriel thought. The sun was already past the window when Josephine knocked at his room, saying that it was breakfast in a voice loud enough but not to the point she was shouting. Senriel groaned and made a noise similar to a dying druffalo in reply.

Leliana wasn’t present. According to one of the diplomats, the Divine had to attend to a meeting with the Viscount of Kirkwall. Apparently, there was something going on in the Free Marches, but not dire enough just yet to affect anything down south.

Breakfast was a rather awkward affair, seeing as Senriel could barely think of something to reply with when prompted about his plans for the Inquisition in the future. So far, despite the military presence, there were some areas that were appreciative with their efforts of charity. Josephine had to field answers for the elf as he ate breakfast in almost shy silence.

Some of the noble women probably found it endearing, so it was definitely points for the Inquisition.

When they finished, Senriel quickly slipped away when both of his advisers ended up distracting an officer from Ferelden’s army. It seems that even after two years, people barely had a clue that Clan Lavellan _was_ from Ferelden orginially.

Senriel was scowling when he exited to the courtyard, planning to head outside and clear his head.

“Firefly! Over here!”

Senriel spun on his heel and laughed when he saw Varric waving at him. He skipped through the courtyard and hugged his dwarven friend, kneeling a little, Varric returned the impromptu bear hug warmly. The elf was grinning when he let go. Then he noticed the human next to the dwarf, looking very apprehensive. The human excused himself web the Inquisitor approached.

“Varric! I missed you!” Senriel rocked on his heels, glad for the wrappings instead of boots. It afforded his feet protection _and_ it was very comfortable. Stylish, too.

“Missed you too, kid. How are things? Did you set Skyhold on fire while we're gone?” Varric looked well, but he had new laugh and stress lives, made his eyes look a little heavier and his forehead sharper. Was that grey hair?

“Nah, but I did set some Lusacan fanatics on fire though. The Wardens are all kinda waiting for the last two to wake up, and some cultists actually found their way down south. Long way to go from Tevinter.”

Senriel can still remember some other Tevinter elitist cults hanging around. It was like they didn't learn from the Venatori or something. Either way, Senriel was happy to deal with them. At least that distracted him from the impending talks about what to do with the Inquisition for some time. He knew they had a big military presence, connections in high places, and an intelligence network more complicated than spiderwebs. It was harder to manage it ever since Leliana became Divine.

“Nothing good comes from praying to a dragon,” Varric tutted. His eyes turned soft and gripped Senriel’s arm comfortingly. “Hey, I got some word about survivors from Clan Lavellan. Do you know an Istimaethoriel or something? Last I heard she was moving about five or eight elves around the Free Marches.”

“Yes!” Senriel burst out, happy tears forming in his eyes. “She's our keeper! Creators, Varric, she's safe! Thank you.”

“Aw, Firefly, it wasn't much. That's the least I can do, you know?” Varric then grinned wide, reaching for something inside his coat. It was an ornate key that had Kirkwall’s crest. He handed it to Senriel.

“What's this?” Senriel turned it over his hands. It was a little faded, but it was very well and intricately made. It looked like the kind of thing they was hard to come by.

“Nothing much, just the key to the harbor. Also, did I mention that you now have a land and holdings in Kirkwall? Because you do now.” Varric looked entirely unapologetic and shooed the indignant human who started protesting at Varric giving land away freely now that he was Viscount. “Their fault for picking me.”

“Well…,” Senriel we rubbing his hands together, a mischievous expression on his face. “I've always have been curious what will happen if I-”

“Just don't set it on fire,” Varric chuckled. “It might burn Kirkwall to the ground.”

Senriel laughed, nodding at Varric's only request. Yet he gave the key back to Varric, no intention of making used of it. “It's been great seeing you, Varric - or should I say, Viscount Tethras.”

The dwarf rolled his eyes at the title, and he did give the human a withering glance when he approached again with something about Statkhaven’s king. “It's been great seeing you too Sen. I better get back with the Seneschal, and give a nice “Screw Yourself” to Choir Boy.”

“By all means,” Senriel's smile turned wry. “Please do.”

“Will do Firefly, will do.” With that Varric reluctantly made his way to his side, who started speaking rapidly about a sudden message sent by crow.

Senriel just left the two to it, politics not interesting him much. The snow and daggers, gossiping behind people's backs, and trying to kill each other without looking guilty was tiring as fuck. Everything would be simple if people were allowed to set their enemies on fire without looking like some backwater barbarian.

He passed through the fountain and found the tavern. The first person he saw was Sera, and he almost ran over a passing dwarf when he made his way to her.

“Sera!” He leapt when she spun to face him, they fell to the ground when he tackled her into a hug. She grinned as they stood up.

“How's it going, Sen?” They pulled apart and Sera led him to one of the tables. The tavern was a lot like an outdoor cafe though, except it served booze instead of those bitter shots of drinks that has been gaining popularity for some time. Senriel found they're quite delicious when dumped with milk and sugar. Kind of like the cocoa Iron Bull made him try some time ago.

Speaking of which, he can hear Krem close by, he'd talk to them after with Sera.

“I'm doing fine. Haven't set anything on fire in Skyhold yet, but that's just your typical day. How have you been?” Senriel stretched a little, leaning back on his chair like a lazy cat. A very lazy and fat cat. He giggled to himself, thinking about the cat he'd been keeping in his quarters. It was well-fed, spoiled, and fixed. It looked like an enormous cream ball at this point. The adorable ball of fluff should be in Skyhold, under Fiona’s care. There should be expensive cat treats around to take home with.

Senriel shook his head then focused back on Sera, who was talking about some Jenny stuff she'd been doing.

“Oi, I just remembered!” Senriel piped at the mention of dissing nobles. “Wanna have another go at pranking pompous arsehats who have their heads stuck in their arseholes?”

Sera cackled. “That's exactly why I like you.”

Grinning, the two took off, passing by Bull as Senriel pointed to where their supplies were. He did give Bull a quick ‘hi, talk to you later!’ as they rushed past the Qunari.

Sera beat Senriel to the supplies, grabbing a milder form of some of the ice concoctions they kept around for experimentation. She somehow found the practice sponges. Those were mostly used for testing out new grenades before storing it in bottles to save glass. Many a time Adan admonished Senriel for wasting bottles back when they were in Haven. It seemed so long ago now.

The Rogue and Mage struck hard and struck fast, passing nobles blindsided by a pair of elves that moved about almost as quick as lightning. Soon, the two ran out of big-headed elites to throw sponges at, and threw the last pair at each other - laughing as both made their way back to the tavern.

It was about three in the afternoon when Sera and Senriel settled into an empty table, giggling to themselves.

“That was fun!” Senriel laughed, and then ended up tracing his snaggletooth with his tongue when he caught Sera staring at it. “We should do it again.”

Sera nodded. “Yeah, we never run out of those pompous arses that lose their breeches. Makes them thinking twice about shite.” Sera’s eyes roamed over the tavern and then waved two humans over. “Just remembered, did Varric tell ya 'bout your clan head or something? Because I had friends who got in touch with a… A… Selanni or somethin’.”

“She's our First!” Senriel leant forward, heart light and happiness and relief in his eyes. “She's my cousin.”

Sera patted him on the head. “Yeah, she sent a letter.”

The older elf gave him a sealed envelope, a sketch of a tree in front.

_Andaran Atish’an Dalen,_

_Senriel, I am beyond relieved and overjoyed to find you are alive. I prayed for Mythal everyday that you're safe and that Falon’din had but claimed you yet._

_As for our clan - may he guide them through the Beyond - what was left of many of us have scattered to the winds. I have heard that Keeper Istimaethoriel was still around, leading some of our clansmen. I haven't met them in two years, and I pray to Andruil that they may lead us back together._

_As for me - I have taken residence in Wycome’s alienage. I heal the ill among them, and in turn, they provide me with refuge and sustenance._

_Was it you that sent soldiers two years ago? To… Stop whatever it was that drove the humans of the city to illness and madness? Inquisition soldiers had killed so many of them afflicted with the red lyrium, and many are relieved by your help._

_However, knowing you, it may be payback. Had you taken your vallaslin, I'm absolutely certain you would have chosen Elgar’nan._

_I am happy, cousin, to hear you are well and thriving. I am letting you know in advance, however, that I will be paying a visit soon and hope you don't set anything on fire before I arrive. That may be hopeless, but I like being optimistic._

_Dareth Shiral and may the Creators guide you and Fen’Harel bring ruin to your enemies._

_Your dearest cousin,_

_Selanni_

Senriel held the letter to his chest, tears brimming in his eyes. Despite the impending Council, his heart soared in his chest with hope, happy to know that he still had his family _somewhere_. Selanni taught him when the Keeper could not, shared stories about their Creators on the cold nights, when winter came and snow was thick on the ground. She was the closest thing he had to a mother, and Senriel was over the moon to know she was alive and well.

“Ei, why are you crying? You should be happy, stupid.”

Senriel wiped his tears with a handkerchief Josephine stashed on his breast pocket at the last minute. “Yeah, I'm happy Sera. Very happy. Thank you.”

The older elf did give him one of her softer smiles, affectionate, like a big sister. “You better be, can't have you sad when you've got family waiting.”

Senriel nodded. “Sure thing.”

She cleared her throat and gestured at the two humans with her.

“So! Got some friends with me. This here is Nielsen and the other is Mira.” The two shook Senriel's hand, and the mage greeted them cheerfully. Sera explained what they've been doing, what the situation looked like, and what Senriel can check out later if ever he decided to nose around the nobility later on. “I mean, if it'll keep the Inquisition together, why not?”

“Thanks Sera.” Senriel noticed there was no invite him for him to be a Red Jenny, she probably thought he was still the same kid from to years ago. Not that he could blame her. He had a feeling he'd be having his hands full after the Exalted Council. “Hey, is it okay if I talk to Bull for a bit?”

Sera shrugged. “Sure thing, I'd be hanging about, whenever you want to do more pranks or talk. Dunno, just keep it simple.”

Feeling mischievous, Senriel inclined his head in a light bow. “Ma nuvenin. Dareth Shiral, lethallan.”

Sera stuck her tongue at his “elfiness” while he made his way to the Qunari. Before Senriel can poke Iron Bull, a hand was pulling him by the scruff of his collar to a building behind the pub.

“What.” Senriel stared at Krem who had a nervous expression. He was fidgeting around, an enormous dragon skull was behind him, his fellow Chargers looked ready to carry it off.

“We need your help,” Krem began and peeked through Senriel's shoulder, trying to see if Bull can see them. “It's been the Boss's birthday a week ago, and this is a belated present. We wanted to make it a surprise, but it's not easy lugging around a dragon skull. We just need to distract him, you up to it?”

Senriel shrugged. “Why not? Was gonna talk to Bull anyway.”

Krem grinned and ruffled his hair. The elf pouted at him. The only who didn't ruffle it _every time_ was Varric, but that's because he's shorter than Senriel and the dwarf would find opportunities sometimes. Solas probably did it because he was jealous of hair, and Cole probably thought he was part cat or something. Speaking of Cole, Senriel did see him with Maryden headed off to the stairwell earlier.

Krem cleared his throat, and Senriel grinned sheepishly. The smile the older man gave him was fond and amused. “Just talk to him for a bit, and then we'll give you a signal.”

Serin have them a warrior's salute. “Sure thing.”

Senriel Lavellan made his way casually to the Qunari, feeling confident. When he sat down next to Bull, the Reaver was quick to pull the alcohol away from the elf. Senriel pursed his lips. Honestly, it's like they think he's still sixteen or something…. Which wasn't quite untrue. Josephine commissioned a painting for him about three months into Skyhold, and Senriel did compare it to his current face. Lost some baby fat, got more angle to his cheekbones, but everything was mostly the same. His hair got longer, though, but it was still the same cut. Stylishly messy, Dorian would sometimes say.

“Bull! How are you?” Senriel greeted. Bull grunted, but he was grinning.

The elf opened his mouth to speak, ready to talk the Iron Bull’s ears off, but nothing came to mind. His eyes darted to the side to see Krem making talking gestures with his hand before pointing at the dragon head and miming pushing it. The elf was about to reply in hand gestures, but Bull shifted and he was reminded of his task.

“How have you been?” Senriel started, mind reeling and trying to think of something to talk about.

“Been doing fine, boss. Me and the Chargers would take a job here and there.” He took a sip of his Qunari rotgut. “How have you been? Set anything on fire yet?”

Senriel coloured. “Why does everyone keep on assuming I am somehow guilty of arson?”

Iron Bull opened his mouth, ready to explain exactly why people think he's capable of seeing anything ablaze.

“Nooooo, don't answer that. We're gonna talk about shit,” Senriel declared, except, he didn't know exactly _what_ shit he's gonna talk about.

Bull took a sip. More like he downed the thing in a gulp.

“So… uh… Magic! The thing I do to make things explode!” Senriel cringed, ready to die from embarrassment. “It's kinda like making the Veil vibrate and stuff, and you uhh.. Bring out the things you imagine to the real world but it's not like it's traveling through some invisible bridge, but kinda like thinking that hey there's an elephant in the room and everyone realises that _there_ is an elephant in the room and everyone is pointing at it. Except it explodes. Or freezes. Or turns into lightning and shocks everyone. Or kinda like this barriers I make that Solas liked because my barriers are _revolutionary_. What he said. His words, not mine.”

Senriel wanted to punch himself for babbling. Creators, that was embarrassing. Bull looked like he was torn between seeking help from whatever deities the Qunari believed in and laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

Instead, he nodded and said, “uhh… okay. Interesting way to put it.”

Senriel wanted to slam his head on the table. Instead, he glanced at one of the shots of alcohol waiting on the table, snatched it, and downed it faster than Dorian's haste spells. Tears formed in the elf's eyes and fire burned down his throat, but it wasn't the kind of fire he was used to.

“Hey, you're a minor!” Bull moved on to patting the elf's back as Senriel coughed and tried not to choke. Already, he felt dizzy.

“Uuuugh… That was horrible, and I've been an adult for two months now.” Senriel sputtered some more and gave the barkeep a grateful look as a cup of milk was put in front of him. It made the burning go away.

“Clearly, you are.” Bull sounded amused, and he looked relieved that the Inquisitor didn't die by choking on alcohol.

Before Senriel can open his mouth, Bull held his hand up to shush him. “Yeah I know about the dragon thing. Ben-Hassrath, remember? They've probably have it across the room while you were choking.”

Senriel sighed in relief.

“But it was nice seeing ya, you Squirt.” Iron Bull proceeded to mess with Senriel's hair, earning him a yelp. “See you later, need to give my men some well-deserved appreciation.”

The Qunari mercenary made his way to his company and gave them a jovial expression of gratitude. Bull glanced back at Senriel and gave him a wink. Or something close to it. Hard to tell with the eye patch. Senriel waved back.

There was nothing much to do that afternoon, so Senriel decided to check who else was present.

Maryden and Cole were probably with Leliana talking about bard stuff and travelling around the hospices the Inquisition set up. Senriel had to wonder exactly _why_ did Ferelden want to disband them seeing as most of their efforts were focused on healing?

The inquisitor shook his head and spun on his heel.

He arrived at the spa and saw Vivienne talking to a pair of nobles. Senriel frowned. He and Vivienne didn’t always see eye to eye, and it was hard not to feel suspicious about her motives every now and then. The Enchanter’s duplicitous nature just made it hard for Senriel to trust her. The fact that she rallied for reinstating the Circles just made her all the more unappealing.

Yes, he does get that some may view the Circle as a Haven for learning magic and getting protection. However, seeing that almost laughingly easy way to take down rebel mages, the wild-eyed looks many of them had whenever they encountered a Templar as they fought desperately to live, or some of the stories of the mages shared after the Inquisition took them in painted enough of a story that made the elf certain that Vivienne was wrong. Whatever she thought about the Dalish being lucrative for mages wasn’t right either. His brother, Tellan, had to point out what life _really_ was like for Dalish mages,

Not that Senriel wanted to go through that song and dance again. Once was enough.

She did look like she mellowed out though, even just a little. Vivienne excused herself and gestured over for Senriel to come closer.

“Good afternoon, Inquisitor.” She nodded in greeting. “How was your day so far? I heard from passing nobles that there were two elves that… were disrupting the peace.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Senriel replied with a straight face. “Maybe it was a trick of the light? I heard that court people are too paranoid to get caught by two mischievous elves, anyway.”

Vivienne raised a brow, but let the matter go. “No matter, I do have something for you.”

“Really?” Senriel perked up a little, but he deflated and remembered it was from Vivienne. He narrowed his eyes. “Please, it’s not some statute of Andraste.”

“Of course not, my dear.” Vivienne laughed a little, but she didn’t have that same hostility as before. “Consider this as a gift, for all your help in closing the Breach.”

“Well… alright,” Senriel glanced around, eyes widening as elven servants approached. “Uh?”

“It’s spa day,” Vivienne declared, accepting a towel from one of them. “Relax.”

“They serve elves?” Senriel awkwardly took the offered towel, not sure how to react. The elven servant wouldn’t’ meet his eyes, and they left before Senriel cant talk to them. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Vivienne scoffed. “You’re the Inquisitor, it will only be proper to provide services to a hero of the realm.”

“Well… if you say so.”

The whole session took about three hours. Senriel was never this pampered in his life, but he couldn’t picture himself enjoying this kind of thing for more than once a year. True, he had plenty of expensive shit rubbed across his skin, somehow bathed in mud worth hundreds of gold, and had food put over his face to make his skin healthier. Orlesians.

When the session finished, Senriel realised he hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and he was looking forward for that night’s supper. He heard that Leliana got some of the servants cook black forest gateau for dessert. He returned to banquet hall with Vivienne, still avoiding questions and just let Josephine and Cullen take them.

Varric was there too, thankfully. He was talking with Cole, but neither looked happy, for some reason.

“Hey, wanna see some nobles lose their breaches?” Senriel almost jumped when Sera whispered behind him. She cackled and he zapped her lightly in revenge. “Hey!”

“Of course I do,” Senriel whispered back. Sera let the slight go and simply grinned at him. About three Orlesians entered the banquet hall, and when they sat down on their respective seats, loud farting noises exploded in the room.

Scandalised looks were thrown their way, and both elves had to stop themselves from laughing obnoxiously at Sera’s victims.

Senriel was a little disappointed that he didn’t get to speak with Cole and Varric that night, since the dwarf had to pull the spirit turned human to wherever Leliana was holed up. Speaking of which, she wasn’t present that night either.

Cullen had his voice raised at some point. An Orlesian was apparently making a pass at bedding Senriel, and the ex-Templar had to remind them that the Inquisitor wasn’t of age as of yet. It then devolved into questioning his capacity to lead because by all technicalities, Senriel was still a child.

He scowled at that, but Senriel made his exit as graceful as possible with Josephine’s help.

Alone in his room, the elf found it difficult to fall asleep. The Council was in a few days, and Senriel kept on mulling over the benefits of keeping the Inquisition around. Their military presence was large, yes, but they could hardly leave their camps if no soldiers from both governments were coming to claim those places anyway.

The next day, Senriel groaned when he realised he woke up before the sun was up.

Iron Bull was already in the tavern, along with a few soldiers. The elf frowned when the chatter went down when he approached, uncomfortable with the fact that people had to watch themselves when he was around. Thankfully, Bull did not.

“Hey squirt! Over here!” Bull patted the seat next to him. His Chargers were busy trying to chug a barrel of ale as challenge.

Before Senriel can open his mouth, Bull already asked for _‘nothing with too much booze for the lad’_ at the barkeep. The elf pouted when the human placed a mug of eggnog in front of him.

“So, what brings you here? It’s about what, five in the morning?” Bull began to chug on his Qunari grog, throat rumbling at each swallow. “Varric and Cole looked pretty worried.”

“I didn’t see you in the banquet,” Senriel replied, raising a brow and taking a sip of the eggnog. It was pretty nice, though. “How’d you know about that?”

Bull shrugged. “I have my ways.”

Before Senriel can speak, loud galloping filled the air and then the gates swung open loudly. Curious, Senriel told Bill hell check the commotion.

“Dorian!” Senriel rushed towards the older mage getting off his horse, grinning. He glanced behind Dorian and laughed happily when Tellan started climbing down his own.

“Sen!” The older elf rushed to hug the younger. Tellan ruffled Senriel's hair while Dorian snarked behind them.

“Why don't I get a hug after getting back from forums?” Dorian mock sniffled. He was looking regal in his black-gold ambassador robes. Tellan, on the other hand, looked unapologetically Dalish. He was wearing an amulet similar to Dorian’s birthright though, and the Altus was wearing a charm carved from wood with obvious Dalish inspiration.

“Hush now,” Tellan began as he began to wrestle Senriel into a headlock. “You get more than a hug after forums.”

“Ew, I don’t need to know what my brother is doing to my best friend.” Senriel twisted to reverse the headlock and catch Tellan in an armlock. Both brother grappled playfully at each other to get the other to submit. “I’ve got your letter, though. Things should be smooth sailing, right?”

Dorian laughed and managed to quickly mess with Senriel’s hair, despite the ongoing impromptu battle with his older brother. Senriel was distracted long enough to have Tellan kick out his feet then sit on the younger Lavellan.

“Hey! No fair,” Senriel pouted. Tellan cackled while Dorian gave the Inquisitor his most innocent stare. “Bull! Help me! An evil magister is trying to kill me!”

The Qunari was approaching, but when he saw the older Lavellan sitting on the younger, he took a large swig of Qunari rotgut and waved at Dorian. “How’s it been, ‘Vint?”

“Oh you know, plotting the end of the world, doing evil blood magic, shaping my indentured elven servants into the ways of evil. The usual.” Dorian took a peek at what Iron Bull was drinking and made a face. “Still drinking the blood of your enemies, I take it?”

“Oh, you betcha.” Iron Bull then gave Tellan an enormous grin. “And how have you been? Vint’s been treating you bad?”

“Well, the other day, he forgot to give me a goodbye kiss and that was the most horrible day of my life.” Tellan stood up and finally helped Senriel up.

Senriel was just waiting for Tellan to lower his guard and took the opportunity to tackle the older to the ground. He then started running his fingers all over Tellan’s sides aggressively. The older elf wriggled and writhed in laughter, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Argh! Senriel! No! I yield! I yield!” Senriel did not let up, milking his revenge for all it’s worth. Once Tellan was sufficiently breathless, he stopped and pulled his older brother up.

“You never learn,” Senriel tutted, smug. “Thanks, Bull!”

Dorian chuckled and pulled Tellan slung an arm around his shoulders. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to spend some time with my beloved. It’s been a long journey, and I want to stay and chat some more, but I really want to soak into a hot bath and feel all the grime leave my body. I believe there _is_ a spa here….”

“Sure thing!” Senriel waved his brother and best friend off. Well, more like second mentor. The two made their way inside, a servant already tended to their horses and led it to the stables hidden from sight.

Iron Bull grumbled about checking his men and raised his tankard at Senriel for goodbye. The elf shrugged and took to exploring the rest of Halamshiral.

He hadn’t had the chance to explore much like the last time, seeing as he was mostly holed up in the Ballroom while Tellan investigated and did almost everything behind the scenes. The palace was beautiful though. The Orelsian designs were obviously a somewhat recent addition, and the elven influences were almost completely covered after years of human occupation. It was sad to see what little the Dalish used to have were taken away.

Senriel’s ears perked when he heard metal against metal, accompanied by familiar shouting and battle cries. Curious, the Inquisitor made his way to where the noise came from, and grinned when he found a pair of familiar faces.

Cassandra and Blackwall were sparring, and both looked very energetic at this Void-forsaken hour. Cassandra was wearing a lighter version of her Seeker armour, while Blackwall was finally in Grey Warden silver-blues. Cassandra was bashing her shield against Blackwall’s claymore, screaming aggressively at him.

Senriel whistled, but neither lost concentration. Rather forcefully, they pulled apart and turned to Senriel.

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra greeted while Blackwall nodded in acknowledgement.

“Am I going to end up mediating a murder or something?” Senriel grinned at the two warriors. Cassandra had a curious expression while Blackwall was smiling lightly at him.

“How have you been?” Cassandra was smiling lightly. Neither warrior was putting their weapons away, so they probably planned on continuing to spar afterwards. She had a few stress lines here and there, but she looked mostly the same. The stress of rebuilding the Seekers would start kicking in in a few years.

“Doing fine,” Senriel replied, and then turned to Blackwall. “How are the Wardens, Warden Blackwall?”

“Rainier.” Blackwall took a relaxed pose. “It’s Warden Rainier.”

“Oh! Sorry, Warden Rainer. Right. How are you?” Senriel rocked on his heels. Almost everyone was finally in Halamshiral. Senriel was happy that the people he considered family for the past two years can be with him as he would undoubtedly face impending dissolution. He wished he could have talked more with Tellan, but his brother was tired from the long journey from Minrathous. Besides, the Council was tomorrow. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to his Inner Circle. “Hey, you didn’t answer my question.”

“The Wardens are rebuilding with your help. King Alistair doesn’t like the fact that majority of us are with the Inquisition.” Rainier gestured towards Cassandra. “There are people that are nervous about Seekergetting help from the Inquisition as well.”

“It’s best for the Chantry to remember that if not for the Inquisition, there would still be the threat of Corypheus and the Breach scarring the skies,” Cassandra glanced upwards. “There are scars, but it has been too long a time to remember that demons once poured out from the Fade. Perhaps I was right to assume that the world will see us as madmen because of the Inquisition.”

“Well… I’ve been shaping up the Inquisition for charity work. I know Orlais and Ferelden want those forts back, but I can’t exactly give it back if they aren’t sending soldiers to claim it.” Senriel frowned, uncomfortable. It was rather strange though. Senriel kept getting missives to relinquish his hold in certain territories, and he would often reply to send for replacements to secure the locations. However, for some reason, whatever reinforcement sent would mysteriously die or disappear. Senriel had a feeling that Ferelden was blaming him for those, and it would probably come up later during the Council.

 “Anyway,” Senriel continued. “Any problems with the supplies or?”

“The Grey Wardens are thankful for the help, no worries about that Inquisitor.” Rainier gave Senriel an amicable expression. The Grey Wardens did him good. He actually looked happy, like truly happy. As far as Senriel can see, the weight of deceiving other people did not pull Rainier down with guilt anymore. Then his expression turned serious. “There are… We can feel something amiss. I’ve been restless myself for the past few days.”

“Well, I hope it’s not another Magister Sideralis. That’d suck.” Senriel turned to Cassandra, an enormous grin already growing in his lips. “I heard Varric has another chapter of that book you liked.”

“Really?” Cassandra sounded like a kid when Satinalia came early, and the elf was about to pull her to meet Varric when he heard someone approach.

“Hello, Cole,“ Senriel spun on his heel and smiled at the once-spirit. “Gotcha.”

“All the rivers branch, but they are one river still.” Cole gave Senriel a light smile. However, his expression turned serious and solemn when his gaze fell on Rainier. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever are you sorry for?” Senriel asked. “Did someone die?”

“Excuse me, Inquisitor.” Rainier looked pale when he passed by Senriel, already sheathing his sword. His fast walk turned into a desperate run towards the palace. Senriel can actually smell the fear coming off from Rainier and he had to wonder if the Nightmare was having a repeat performance.

“Cole?” The elf turned to the rogue who was fiddling with his fingers. “I know that Warden Black – er – Rainer said that he’s been feeling something was amiss, but I don’t think it’s polite if you go off scaring the man.”

“This is no nightmare,” Cole continued. He was biting his bottom lip. Senriel hadn’t talked properly with Cole yet, and he was feeling a little disappointed that the spirit seemed to be a bearer of bad news. Well, that was partly his, Varric’s, and Tellan’s fault. They were teaching him to be a lot more human anyway. “When they entered the City, they were seven, two were gone, and one you slain. One is an ally, but the other two are still our foes. They mourn what could have been.”

“Are you speaking about the magisters?” Cassandra took a step forward. Her eyebrows were pinched together and her grip on her sword was tight. “What about the magisters? Are they trying to avenge Corypheus?”

“Well, that’s just plain stupid. Why would they do something if the Inquisition is around?” Senriel didn’t like the sound of more evil or insane magisters. One was enough for one lifetime. “Wait, what do you mean one is an ally?”

“They were asleep,” the ex-spirit went one. Senriel’s heart almost stopped. Was Cole… afraid? “Then they woke up. They didn’t like that they couldn’t wake up the dragons, so they want to go back up. They brought one with them.”

“Bought one – is the sixth Old God awake?” Cassandra prodded.

Selfishly, Senriel understood this was a good reason to keep the Inquisition. Thedas needed it now more than ever. However, his mind kept flashing back to his mamae. Hollow-faced and dying. He can still remember her driving the dagger in Tellan’s hand to her chest.

The Blight was a horrible thing, and it started right in the middle of the time where everyone was doubting the usefulness of the Inquisition. On the other hand, a lot of kingdoms and cities were still recovering from the ordeal with Corypheus. Many places were still rebuilding and in no condition to send out men and women to stop the Blight. Besides, where would the Blight be?

“Not yet, but almost. But they are thinking. Planning. The best ones that can stop them are here.” Cole turned to Senriel, apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

Senriel shook his head. “It’s alright. We should warn everyone though. If studies are correct, the sixth Old God should be in Tevinter, right? We warn Dorian first.”

“I’ll inform the Divine right away.” Cassandra then sheathed her sword and the three then began to make their way back inside the palace.

Senriel was faster than the two, and Senriel broke off from the two headed for Leliana. He almost knocked down a couple of servants in his haste, cringed when he rushed by Sera who called for him. Thankfully, there weren’t much people to block the mage, and Senriel reached Dorian and Tellan’s quarters in five minutes.

He forcefully slammed the doors open, panting for breath. Dorian and Tellan scrambled away from each other and Senriel gave them thirty seconds to cover themselves with a blanket.

“What the fuck Sen?” Tellan began, red-faced when Senriel stood straight. “Did you just use magic to knock the door off?”

“Sorry, no time. The Sixth Blight is starting!”

Dorian and Tellan both froze, shock colouring their faces. There was dead silence. Dorian opened his mouth to speak, trying to get words out of his mouth, but nothing seemed to go out. Tellan had his mouth hanging open as well, but then he snapped it shut.

“That can’t be. If it is….”

“Minrathous,” Dorian looked like he wanted to stand up, but was suddenly aware of his nudity. “Kaffas, if Razikale awoke, she would be in Minrathous.”

Senriel flushed when he realised his brother and best friend/mentor were giving him expectant looks. “Right, naked, of course.”

The Inquisitor then made his way to where Leliana was going to be holed up, already running. He skidded to a halt when the rest of his Inner Circle were on their way to his direction. Josephine’s hair was a mess, and Cullen still looked half-asleep.

“Firefly, we’re sorry if didn’t let you know right away,” Varric began, looking very guilty. “I told Cole not to tell you yet so that you won’t worry about it, but if he did anyway, it must be very bad.”

“They gather together and dream of what could have been. They promise no harm, as long as the men in jewels help. Their king lies dead, because he does not wish for another war.” Cole glanced around, and then his eyes settled on the approaching Dorian with Tellan. “He’s gone. She’s running away with everyone she can save.”

Dorian froze, shock made him pale and shaky. “No.”

“I’m sorry.” Tellan took the altus into his arms into an embrace. Tellan kept his embrace tight, and rubbed soothing circles in Dorian’s hair. Dorian didn’t look like he was falling apart, so that was a good thing.

Leliana took a deep breath and began to speak. “Inquisitor Lavellan, we must inform the Council about this development. We will no longer have to question the necessity of the Inquisition if the Sixth Blight is beginning – assisted by Tevinter Magisters, no less.”

“Hah!” Dorian sounded bitter, and he was already pulling himself up to his full height. “I suppose the Archon being sensible enough trying to stop him is probably the only good thing. My countrymen helping the Blight? To be expected. They really must want the old days of Tevinter.”

“What about the slaves, ‘Vint?” Iron Bull had a considering frown on his face. “What happens to them?

“Those Maevaris could not save are probably cannon fodder by now.” Dorian turned to Rainier. “Did you send word to Weisshaupt already?”

Rainier shook his head. “No, but if I could feel it all the way from Orlais, all of Anderfels should be amassing already.”

“We are forgetting the fact that a great majority of Tevinter’s Magisterium had allied themselves to the Blight for power,” Vivienne said next. She was frowning. “I believe that a great deal of the Magisterium are maleficarii.”

Dorian snorted, but did not disagree. Tellan was biting his lips, rocking on one foot and into the other.

“Well,” Senriel began uneasily, nervousness spiking when all eyes settled on him. He took a deep breath when he met Tellan’s encouraging gaze. “What are we waiting for? We send warning to the city-states in the Free Marches, the triumvirate idiots that are Orlais’ rulers, and to King Alistair. I mean, there’s a Blight, right? What ever in the fuck are we doing talking about what to do when we need to do _something._ ”

“I agree,” Cullen said next, stepping forward. “I’ll have messengers sent to Skyhold so we can train our forces for the Blight. The added threat of blood mages should be dealt with.”

“We will need help from nobles as well.” Senriel was impressed that she had her clipboard with her, a quill already in her hand. “I’ll start writing letters.”

“What is going on here?” The Inner Circle of the Inquisition turned towards the intruder. It was a somewhat bleary-eyed Arl Eamon. He looked angry. He turned to Senriel with a glare. “Your holy, I would hate to interrupt, but I heard that the Inquisition is spreading rumours about a Blight beginning!”

Senriel scowled and met Eamon’s gaze head on. “We are most definitely not spreading rumours. Must you think of us to be desperate enough to do something like that just to keep the Inquisition together?”

“Yes!” Eamon took a step forward, Senriel faced him head on. Even if Eamon was over a foot taller than Senriel, the elf was far from afraid from taking the bull by its horns.

“How desperate I might be, with a military power bigger than Ferelden’s because your fucking men are enlisting under the Inquisition! You have no one to blame but yourself if you’re so Void damned afraid that your military power is dying!”

“Senriel!” Josephine pulled Senriel to the side and shielded him from Eamon’s gaze. “We do apologise, milord. However, these are dire times and we are trying to find out if Tevinter Magisters are actually siding with the Archdemon.”

“So you construct this nonsense that magisters are actually helping the Blight?”

Senriel was about to scream back at the angry noble when he felt hands pulling him away. He snarled at whoever that was holding him, ready to fling himself at the stupid human and show him exactly _how_ desperate he really was.

“Sen, now is not the time to act like a savage!” It was Tellan’s voice in his ear, and Senriel calmed a little. His expression was still beyond angry and smoke literally came out of his mouth and nose. He settled for gritting his teeth instead, stewing in anger. Josephine, Cullen, and Dorian had taken to have a screaming match with Arl Eamon instead.

The elf glanced behind him to see that Iron Bull had him by the scruff, with Sera and Tellan holding both of his arms. He tried not to give them dour looks, so he just settled at glaring daggers at Eamon instead. He was sorely tempted to conjure flames at Eamon’s robes, but Vivienne caught his gaze and gave him an unimpressed look. He stuck his tongue at her.

“Come on, you need to cool down, squirt.” Iron Bull then lugged Senriel over his shoulder. Senriel yelped at the sudden change in position, but he just continued to brood at the indignation. “When the Darkspawn come knocking, you know who to blame.”

Senriel huffed and did not reply.

“Hey, things will turn out fine. Just remember –“Whatever it was Tellan wanted to say was cut off by a loud explosion.

Halamshiral rocked on its foundation, the walls exploded and debris flew _everywhere_. Iron Bull let Senriel go, and he gasped in pain when he hit his head on the floor.

Senriel tried standing up, but his vision was blurry and it felt like the world was spinning into dizzying circles. He can hear someone calling for his name lost in a sea of screaming. Someone was pulling him again, and he instinctively cast a barrier over their heads. He can hear debris thudding off from the magic, and Senriel just screwed his eyes shut and held their magical shield. Someone was pulling him to the left, and then he heard hinges screeching against metal. Someone forced him to sit down on something soft, and he can only grit his teeth at the loud ringing that’s starting inside his ears.

Something cold was being pressed to Senriel’s lips and he swallowed the familiar taste of the health potion. The dizziness disappeared, and Senriel chanced on opening his eyes.

The world was a little steadier now, and his brother and Bull were giving him worried looks. They were in the quarters for Senriel, but there was an enormous crack in the wall.

“Someone bombed the place,” Tellan explained, and then he continued when he caught Senriel’s ‘Well duh,’ expression. “Charter told me earlier they caught two agents yesterday. One was an elven Qunari, and the other was…”

“The other was?” Senriel asked.

“An agent of Fen’Harel,” Bull answered when Tellan looked too uncomfortable. “Hey, I may be Tal-Vashoth, but I was Ben-Hasserath, yeah?”

“Alright, and what does this have to do with the bombing?” Senriel started removing the formal dress robes, stood up from the bed and went for the chest that had his armour and dragon bone fire staff. He threw the irritating formal robes off and quickly shimmied into the red-black Dragonhunter robes like the one Inquisitor Ameridan left him. He grabbed the red scarf Tellan bought him a no more than three years ago.

It felt good to wear something not as restrictive as the dress robes. Senriel did burn his last one. It was a perfect fit then, so it wouldn’t make sense keeping it after growing an inch. Maybe Senriel will burn this one next.

“Leliana said they were planning the bombing. The Qunari, I mean.” Tellan looked extremely uncomfortable at the fact that two elven agents were part of the bombing. Especially with the one who said he was an agent of one of the gods in their pantheon. Technically, Fen’Harel was their shit god, but he was _their_ shit god nevertheless. “Well, not _our_ Qunari, but you get the point.”

After snapping the last greave in place, Senriel grabbed his staff and began to assemble it. The basic concept was similar to his first staff – it can be assembled and then disassembled into pieces – except, the design was different. The very top was a dragon with an elegantly cut ruby between its teeth, its wings suspended in flight. It had a long body similar to a snake, and its tail twisted along a bigger snake twirling around the length of the staff, its mouth opened at the very bottom while its fangs extended into twin blades. There were slots for runes on the carved area of the snake that served as the handle.

“Come on, let’s get out there and kill something.”

Senriel was rather thankful that everyone had the sense to dress in armour and bring weapons that morning. Bull and Sera never go anywhere unarmed, and Tellan and Dorian had to get their weapons just in case they needed to rush back to Tevinter or something.

When Senriel forced the door open, something struck him as terribly wrong.

It was still loud, yes, and he can actually hear _fighting_. Yet, there was something itching at the back of his head.

Before Senriel can take a step forward, sudden pain exploded in his left hand. He dropped to his knees and cradled his marked arm in pain. Tears blurred his vision and black spots were starting to dance. His back felt like it would curl into itself with how much his arm burned. Tellan was yelling for more potions and Senriel can barely hear whatever it was that Bull and Sera said with how painful his arm was getting. He can hear more shouting and his blood ran cold when he thought he heard the familiar animalistic snarling of Darkspawn.

He can hear more shouting, but Senriel was trying to lessen the pain but he had no idea how. There were more hands pulling at him, and he can feel someone forcing to wrench his arm free. There was someone familiar speaking, but Senriel can only focus on the white-hot spreading from his fingertips and into his shoulder up his neck and down his chest.

There were more shouting and all of Senriel’s skin felt like it was on fire but that was weird because he _can_ dance in the flamed and _not_ burn. Someone was holding all his limbs apart, and Senriel can only writhe and struggle because everything hurt and _will someone just kill me?_

There were more shouting and there was someone pleading at Senriel. He had no idea what they wanted but please he can’t take any more of this. They were apologising and it’s almost over and the pain will stop, but it was more than an eternity because Senriel had no idea just how long the promises that it’s almost over were.

Then it stopped.

It’s like someone poured ice down Senriel’s back, and the elf melted in relief at the sudden disappearance of the pain. He tried standing up, but someone kept him down.

“We’re almost done.”

“Solas?” Senriel called out, opened his eyes, but everything was too bright. He tried to speak, but the cold relief turned into dread.

“The reprieve from pain is temporary. I am attempting to provide a permanent solution.” Before Senriel what permanent solution it was the apostate talked about, the growing dread began to spread down to Senriel’s toes.

It was the mark, he realised.

The magic continued to flow, as if it was following a pattern. It curled around his torso and limbs, like vines growing on a tree. The mark continued to spread to Senriel’s head, like tiny spiders crawling under his skin. He began to tremble.

_What’s happening to me?_

He called for Tellan, but Solas’ voice murmured inside his head. It felt like the mark was stretching Senriel thin, as if he was freefalling with no sign of landing. The world around him went in and out of focus, still too bright for him to focus. He tried reaching out, but his whole body felt heavy, as if it were made of lead.

“Almost done.”

Someone was wiping the tears off Senriel’s face, murmuring soothingly in his hair. Oh. Senriel didn’t know he was crying.

It felt like an eternity.

The mark didn’t stop spreading, twining itself with every fibre of Senriel’s being. Becoming a part of him. Becoming _him_.

Then it was over.

Something inside Senriel snapped into place, like the final piece to a puzzle being put into place, or his staff coming together into a whole. The magic of the mark had saturated deep within his being; sinking deep into his skin, through his bones, and settled around his soul like it had always have been there. He pulled his left hand over his head, a little amazed that the once green mark was now a deep blue like the outer colour of his eyes. It twisted around his hand like vines twined around his skin.

Curious, Senriel let his magic run along the paths the mark created. A deep warmth began in his chest, and gold seem to burst from the anchor.

“I… did not expect this outcome.” Then it was Solas pulling him up, Tellan was hovering close by, but where was Bull and Sera?

“There are Darkspawn _everywhere,_ ” Tellan answered for Senriel’s benefit, the older brother handing the staff back to the younger. Senriel didn’t realise he said that out loud. He already had his bow out with an arrow notched. “They had to keep some Darkspawn away from you.”

“Wait – what are Darkspawn doing here? We’re – the Deep Roads aren’t even fucking _close_.” Senriel almost jumped when Tellan suddenly aimed his arrow at Senriel and let it fly. The shrieks of a dying Hurlock reached Senriel’s ears and the elf moved next to Tellan to cover his back.

Then he noticed Solas’ guilty expression.

“Senriel – I apologise. This was my doing.” Solas didn’t look like he was going to make a move any time soon. Heat began to gather inside Senriel’s skull, and he can feel the familiar bite of an oncoming fire spell ready to explode.

“What have you done?” Senriel demanded, grabbed Solas by the collar. “Did you start the Blight?”

Solas threw the younger elf an alarmed look, genuinely surprised. “No, that was not my intention. The Blight, if anything, just caused my plans to fall apart.”

“So you led them here?” Tellan didn’t make Senriel let Solas go. It was a useless gesture anyway, seeing as Senriel barely reached Solas’ eyes. “How?”

“The Eluvians… There is one here. That is how Briala was able to move across the Winter Palace unhindered.” Solas was actually regretful, and that just pissed Senriel off more. “One of them led to a Deep Roads Thaig, and since they are all connected by the Crossroad… I believe you can imagine the picture.”

Senriel snarled and let Solas go. He slammed his staff on the ground in anger, a wall of flames exploding harmlessly. Even if Solas saved Senriel's life, all the mage could focuse on was the fact that  _all o_ f their lives were in danger because of Solas. “You left us! You left us and brought fucking Darkspawn to the place where many, if not, _all_ of the people who can stop them! What the fuck have you been doing Solas?”

Solas did not answer, but Senriel was beyond angry to listen anyway. Instead, he marched off, head swimming in rage. “You better think of something or I’m fucking taking your legs.”

With that, Senriel joined the fray, Tellan hot on his heels.

Solas sighed, brushing the spot Senriel touched. His skin was hotter than flames, and it left a sooty handprint on where Senriel touched the cloth. He glanced at the elven mage killing Darkspawn left and right with a flaming spirit sword, screaming obscenities.

“I have done everything to bring our People back to what we once were,” Solas said to himself, looking at the elf who once carried his mark but forced Solas to turn it into Senriel’s. Its magic was no longer what it used to be. It was a lot like its owner now – unpredictable and wild, just on the verge of exploding. “Now, I hope that this is the opportunity that I have been looking for to do that.”


	4. visions are seldom all they seem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ethan Frye – before, during, and after that fateful night.

_14 October 1854_

Ethan had to correct Jacob’s form more than once. He was eager, yes, but Jacob tend to fight like he was desperate. He was a good fighter, Ethan knew that, but he was emulating the thugs he often saw whenever someone tailed Ethan.

Eventually, Jacob got frustrated and ran off. Ethan just sighed and focused on Evie. It’s either George or Cecily’s mother – Mildred – that will end up watching his son. Besides, Jacob ran off on his own often enough, and the house was nearby. Nothing could possibly happen to Jacob at this point.

“He’s really upset,” Evie piped up, eyes lingering to where Jacob stomped off.

“He’ll be fine.” Ethan cleared his throat and continued to instruct Evie.

George would be home that night, and he already told Mildred that his old student will be present for supper. She looked very happy whenever George was over, and she was very insistent that George finalise his move. Ethan always found himself frowning at her invitation, confused why would his old apprentice want to stay.

Evie overbalanced and it caught Ethan’s attention, bringing him back to the present. He began to correct her form and advised her where to put her weight. His daughter beamed at him happily and continued her training.

Strange, when was the last time Jacob smiled? Ethan knew that he had been staying in Crawley for almost a year now, and the twins are approaching seven years old. The first time he arrived, Jacob struck Ethan as a cheerful type of child, but he had been prone to sulking and glaring for the past few months. Maybe it would be best to talk to him about whatever it was that Ethan was doing that made the boy moody. It wasn’t easy to teach Jacob whenever he was sullen.

Eventually, the sun began to set, and Ethan patted Evie to stop. “Come on, grandma made us supper. Uncle George will be here tonight.”

Evie nodded happily at Ethan, and feeling rather cheery, he lifted her up to carry her home. The walk wasn’t too long, and he passed by George along the way. The man almost rushed out, trying to hide the spot of blood away from Evie.

“Wash up!” Ethan shouted at George who grunted in affirmative. He set Evie down when they reached the front door. He was about to head off to the Kitchen when he remembered that he still had his gun with him.

“Wash up after Uncle George, okay?” The assassin instructed his daughter. Evie nodded.

Ethan gave her a quick smile and then climbed up the stairs, slowly making his way up. He glanced behind him to see Evie following. He raised a brow.

“Just wanted to check on Jacob.”

Ethan shrugged. When he reached the top of the stairwell, no sign of Jacob. Evie checked Jacob’s room and then declared he wasn’t present. He was probably inside Ethan’s room then.

The elder Frye was about to open the knob when it suddenly slammed open, Jacob pale as a sheet and looked like as if he was crying. Ethan narrowed his eyes. There was something amiss.

Cecily’s chest was opened, and Ethan can feel his heart stutter to a stop. He had never opened that box before not because he wouldn’t, but because he _couldn’t_. And Jacob _opened_ it. For some reason or the other, he opened the last thing that Cecily owned. There was nothing much it seemed, except for a shard of glass stained red sitting on the floor.

Ethan would love to take a look at everything Cecily left behind, but he needed to make sure that he would set up some boundaries with his son. Jacob had a tendency to push and step beyond his limits, and that often got the boy in trouble.

“Is there a particular reason why you broke into my room?” Ethan asked, raising a brow. It’s most likely that Jacob wanted to see something that belonged to their mother, but Ethan wanted to hear it from Jacob himself.

The boy looked confused, he even shook his head like he was trying to decide if this was a dream or reality. Jacob kept glancing behind him, as if he was expecting something to pop out of thin air. Evie was tugging Ethan’s sleeve when Jacob still looked like he wasn’t going to answer soon.

Ethan had to supress a sigh.

“Well?” He asked, tapping his foot a little. He glanced back at the chest. Jacob kept staring back at it. “How did you open that?”

Jacob looked like he was ready to answer, but thought better of it. His eyes kept darting around, gears turning behind in his head. Ethan already knew that Jacob was going to lie. He probably broke the lock.

“I broke the lock.” Ethan had to blink. He was so sure Jacob would lie, but – it does indeed look like he was lying, but why would he lie about breaking it? Does that mean he had a key? If Jacob had the key, why would he hide it? “It just has a stick and a piece of glass, anyway.”

Curious, Ethan approached the box and then picked up the piece of glass. He glanced at Jacob, and he filed his observation for later. His son was acting strangely. Stranger than the usual, anyway.

Jacob’s eyes followed the glass, his eyes wide and fear so thick in his expression. What happened? “What's this?” F

Whatever it was that Ethan held was causing distress with Jacob. Still, he held on to it. He peeked at the box.

It had more than a piece of stick.

Whatever it was, it looked like some walking stick that also served as a weapon. More like a staff, actually. It was broken into components and what he guessed to be the very top was rather… garish in design. It was a dragon with a ruby of all things. Cecily came from a family of wealth, but this was just too… garish for her. Obnoxious even.

Sighing, he returned both items. He had to blink when he realised that whatever the staff was lying on, it wasn’t wood. On second glance, it looked like leather, and there was something uneven beneath it. Ethan can always check it later, when he had the time.

It was almost supper anyway, so he then closed the box. He glanced back at Jacob to check his reaction, and it was rather interesting that he looked so relieved that the cause of his distress was gone.

“Is there something you'd like to tell me, Jacob?” He kept his voice gentle, encouraging Jacob to come clean. Something was wrong with Jacob, obviously, but Ethan won’t be of help if his son didn’t cooperate anyway.

Jacob froze, his eyes staring straight past Ethan. Was there an intruder? Ethan checked Evie’s reaction, she was staring at Jacob, and then to whatever he was looking at. She raised a brow and shook her head when she met Ethan’s gaze.

Nothing there, then.

Yet there must be _something_ , because Jacob looked terrified. Then he blinked, eyes darting between Ethan and whatever it was that he saw. The boy looked torn, for some reason. It was as if he was coming to a decision. Ethan was about to say something, then Jacob spoke.

Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong.

“I know Evie and I aren't allowed here,” Jacob began. He was staring back at Ethan, their eyes meeting. Yet his hazel eyes didn’t have that usual spark – it was bright, yes, but it held a strange gleam. His voice was worse, monotonous and toneless. He sounded _dead_. “I just wanted to see mum's stuff.”

It was the truth, but there was something about it that didn’t sit right with Ethan. Jacob would usually follow with something defensive or hurl as much vitriol at Ethan for being an adult. Worse was Jacob’s expression. It was like he wasn’t… himself. His eyes were unfocused, and his pupils shrunk to tiny pinpricks that made his irises eerie to look at.

“Why didn’t you tell me, then?” Ethan continued. Jacob tilted his head, and the motion seemed too smooth and too calculated for someone like Jacob. Usually, he’d be bouncing around or trying to run away. Instead, he looked like some puppet on string.

“I do not think you would be interested in what I have to say.” Ethan’s jaw fell. Evie looked just as shocked. Jacob spun on his heel, the motion smoother than any Master Assassin Ethan knew can manage. It didn’t look _natural_ at all. Even Jacob’s breathing looked artificial. It was like someone made a lifelike doll in Jacob’s image and replaced it with him. “I believe grandmother is calling for us now.”

That’s not how Jacob _talked_ either. It was too formal, too stiff. The monotone just made him wooden.

The youngest Frye began to walk, and Evie caught Ethan’s gaze, worried. Jacob’s footfalls were almost silent. The way he walked was too graceful and the transition from one footstep to another was without any extra motion. He was too still and too controlled. Jacob was never like _that._

Eventually, they got down and settled on the dinner table. Mildred was teasing George endlessly, the tips of his ears turning pink.

She started serving their portions, and Ethan kept an eye on Jacob who was blinking as if he just woke up. Strange.

His eyes darted around, as if he was confused what was going or where he was. This time around, his pupils were bigger, no longer tiny dots in his eyes. He was beginning to tremble for some reason, and his gaze kept falling on Ethan and the stairwell. Ethan glanced at Evie who also noticed the change.

Before either could talk to the boy, his expression turned blank and his pupils shrunk like it did earlier. His back straightened so suddenly that Ethan was afraid that it snapped. The strange gleam was back, and it looked to Ethan that Evie wanted to know what it was _now_.

“Hey, you left training earlier!” Evie scolded, a light pout on her lips. “I didn’t have anyone to spar with.”

Jacob blinked, and an almost familiar mischievous grin grew on his lips. Except there was an almost malicious curl in Jacob’s mouth, there was a maddened gleam in his eyes Ethan often saw in their Templar enemies who were willing to blow themselves up for the sake of their goals, and Jacob held on to his dining knife as if he would change his grip and stab Evie with it. That wasn’t right. Jacob stuck to his sister like a lifeline whenever he was upset. Evie didn’t seem to be picking up on it, much more focused on retaliating at Jacob’s teasing. Eventually, she grew tired of their childish pettiness and focused on dinner.

Ethan wanted to bring the matter up, and his heart almost stopped.

Jacob was staring at Evie, but the way he stared at her – Ethan was more than familiar with it, he had seen it in himself and George often enough. It was the look of a man ready to kill another.

What in the world happened with Jacob?

Evie took notice, and poked him in the arm.

“What?” The look faded and Jacob relaxed on his seat, and Ethan had come to call _this_ version of Jacob as the normal one. There was something at work here, and Ethan was going to get at the bottom of it. Then the… _other_ Jacob went back, back snapping straight and expression turning blank. “You know, with all father's training, you can't be all lady like even if you tried. I mean, that's why all the other girls think you're a freak.”

Ethan had to bring his hands down. That was out of line. _Even_ for Jacob. They all knew it was a sensitive topic for Evie right now, and Ethan knew she’d grow up out of it. Evie wanted friends though, and just pointing out _why_ she was having difficulties was just plain cruel. Jacob was a child, yes. Children can be cruel, true. However, knowing Jacob, he would never do or say something to hurt his sister intentionally.

Jacob then tilted his head, as if he was listening to something. Listening to what, Ethan had no idea.

For a moment, perhaps there was an artefact of Eden in Cecily’s possessions? No, that can’t be right. Her items did absolutely _nothing_. It’s impossible that there was an artefact making Jacob act like this. This was all his son’s doing.

Perhaps… Jacob was stricken with a mental illness? That wasn’t impossible. There was no other explanation, no rhyme or reason, for him to act like this. A split-personality then?

“Jacob. I don't know what came over you, but you know it's not right to hurt the feelings of others. However, you must apologise to your sister, because that's the right thing to do.” Mildred was all grandmotherly affection. Perhaps this was why Jacob was resistant to the Creed and Ethan’s teachings. She liked to coddle him.

He looked down, eyes fluttering shut. His ears twitched, and he looked up at her, meeting her eyes with a blank stare.

“Father doesn't want you here. He thinks it's better you stayed in Wales. You're a distraction, hindering our training. You're going to die anyway.”

“Jacob Frye!” That was too far. Yet… how did Jacob knew what he was thinking? Ethan didn’t want Mildred to die, she was the _last_ of what Cecily had! On some nights, though…. Ethan would be lying if he said that he had never entertained the thought of waiting for Mildred to pass away, just so he can finally put Cecily’s memory to rest and move on. Still, Jacob crossed the line, and crossed it horribly.

“What's wrong with you?” Evie was already crying, and then she stormed off.

“You better apologise to your grandmother and sister, now.”

A sickening smile grew in Jacob’s face, turning his gaze on Ethan. There was a strange glow to his eyes, and Ethan knew without a doubt that it was not the Sight.

“Do you remember what Cecily said?” Jacob’s voice was no longer toneless, it was practically gleeful. Ethan froze the moment Cecily’s name escaped his son’s lips. There was a cruel gleam in his eyes, as if he was going to enjoy whatever it was that he’ll say next. “Do you remember when screamed and cried for the pain to end when I killed her? _'I can't breathe, Ethan. Don't leave me, please.’_ Do you remember that? Do you remember wanting to abandon me, kill me? Do you remember thinking that you would have abandoned me in a church and let the wolves have me?”

Ethan felt his world crash around him. The world was frozen in time.

How did Jacob _know?_

Ethan entertained those thoughts once, when grief hit him the hardest after Cecily died. He can still feel Cecily begging to live, because she wanted to be with her children, can still hear her voice in the throes of a nightmare, can remember wanting to _kill_ his children because Cecily was _gone_. Jacob couldn’t possibly know that. There was no way for him to know that.

Then the world came crashing back.

Mildred began to heave and gasp, clutching her chest in pain. Ethan exploded into action, shouted at George to get a physician _now_.

George was quick to run off, pale-faced and just as confused as Ethan was with what happened.

The commotion probably caught Evie’s attention, because she wandered back to the Dining room, ruddy-faced and eyes still puffy with tears. Ethan was quick to tell her to get Mildred’s dress off to help her breath.

Ethan muttered curses under his breath as he attempted to get Mildred’s heart started again. She was still, eyes red from popped veins, and her skin was cold to the touch. She wouldn’t make it if they don’t get help now.

Then Evie stilled, trembling and shaking with fear. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open, staring past Ethan. It was Jacob’s expression earlier, in his room. As if both can see something past Ethan.

Perhaps it was morbid curiosity that made Ethan turn to look at what unsettled her.

It was Jacob.

Except, his eyes were no longer the warm hazel he was familiar with. It was a sickly yellow.

His eyes glowed with an inner light, and his pupils were no longer round – rather, they were narrow slits, like a snake. He had a strangely satisfied smile on his face, as everything that happened on this night were his machinations.

Ethan can only stare, the world screeching to a halt.

This isn’t Jacob.

This isn’t his son.

George was back, and Ethan can barely hear what he said, focused on Jacob’s unnatural eyes. He tilted his head, like a curious cat.

“You can’t save her.” Jacob’s voice had a strange quality, like it was everywhere at once. Worse was that it wasn’t just his childish voice that spoke, there were about four more that Ethan can hear, layered on top of Jacob’s. Ethan was sure his heart stopped, hearing a woman’s voice along with three deep gruff rumbles speak as one with his son. “You can’t save anyone else.”

All of Ethan’s regrets sprang at the forefront of his mind, his shame and grief all laid out. There was something that made Jacob do and say these things, and Ethan can do absolutely _nothing_ about it.

“Jacob?” Ethan called out desperately, pleadingly. He had no idea what to do. His son was _in there_ , somewhere, and Ethan had no idea how to reach him. He had no idea if calling out for Jacob would work. What if it doesn’t? What will happen next?

_“Wake up!”_

Ethan glanced around, searching for the source of the voice.

Something began to tamper with the gaslights, all their entryways opened and closed on their own. The shadows were _alive_ , imitating the living. Jacob’s eyes were screwed shut, and blue light burst from Jacob. It exploded outwards, carrying a strange wind. It stopped whatever it was that played with the Frye home. It just confirmed that there was a presence in this house. More than one, it seemed, if the dissonant laughing were anything to go by.

The assassin glanced back at Jacob, hoping that it wasn’t the presence (presences?) that tormented them. His son was glancing around, terrified and guilty. He had no idea what was going, no idea what he just did. Jacob was looking for something – or someone, and no one can see it except for Jacob himself.

Then their eyes met.

“Father?” Christ, he sounded small, terrified. Guilt made tears form in Jacob’s eyes, his whole form trembling. “There was something in the box – I thought it was you.”

Ethan can feel alarms go off inside his head. There was something capable of assuming the appearances of others, and it just made Jacob its victim. Ethan can feel his frustration grow. He had no idea how to attack such a thing, let alone find it. He tried turning on his eagle vision, and he almost choked with what he saw.

Jacob was red.

Jacob was a child; how could he possibly be a danger to anyone? Alright, if it weren’t for Jacob, Mildred wouldn’t have had a heart attack. Except, there was something that made Jacob do it, and Ethan _knew_ it was the presence that Jacob met in Cecily’s box.

Shit, Cecily’s box. What was she keeping in there?

“I’m sorry. They did it and I let them.”

Ethan steeled himself and tried to approach Jacob. Instinctively, his son took a step back. He stayed still, he didn’t want Jacob to run away. “Who are they?”

“He – I….” Jacob’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape. “I’m sorry, I – I’m so sorry.”

Then Jacob began to cry, and Ethan wanted to berate himself. It wasn’t Jacob’s fault, and if anything, Ethan knew that as Jacob’s father – he had to comfort his son. That’s the least he can do at this moment. He gathered all his resolved and rushed right in.

Jacob was too distracted to notice his father closer than he was, and Ethan took that opportunity to hold Jacob’s shoulder – prepared to comfort him at least. Except, Jacob froze, and when he looked up, he was terrified. Christ, was Jacob running a fever? Except, smoke was starting to come from Jacob, curling into lazy circles in the air.

Then he wrenched away from Ethan with surprising strength, scrambling backwards and away.

Ethan can feel dread pooling at the pit of his stomach. However, he wouldn’t give up this easily. “Jacob?”

“No,” he whispered, trembling. His gaze was accusatory. He was whispering to himself, barely audible to Ethan. Undeterred, Ethan stepped closer and froze when he heard what his son was murmuring. _“It’s a trick, it’s not real, it’s a trick, it’s not real–“_

“Jacob, we’re not what you saw,” Ethan began to explain, trying to approach Jacob. At his periphery, he saw George stand up, approaching Jacob. He nodded at his apprentice, both ready to tackle Jacob if needed. “Jacob, I know I haven’t been the best father to be around, but –”

And he wasn’t, Ethan realised, disappointed himself. He knew that his relationship with Jacob hadn’t been the best, and if there was something that took his appearance and made Jacob do whatever it wanted – then there was something Ethan just wasn’t doing right. The look Jacob’s eyes as if he came to a decision, as if he were torn between lying and telling the truth – it meant that it talked to Jacob, _convinced_ Jacob to keep its existence a secret. Keep it secret until everything came crashing down. What did it want?

Then, Jacob ran.

He swept past Ethan and George, both shouting for him to come back. If anything, that just made Jacob run faster.

The boy leapt through the first exit he found, and it was through the open window in the kitchen.

Ethan dove in, sighing in relief when he caught Jacob by the collar. He was about to pull his son up, except Jacob glowed a bright red.

Fire burst in a circle, and Ethan let go when the force of the combustion knocked him off his feet. His clothes were up in flames, and George was quick to react by throwing a bucket of water from the sink at him. The wood around the windows burned, and the glass already melted into a puddle on the sill. The curtain rod was molten metal now, and George had to throw another bucket at the burning draperies.

Was it the presence? Protecting and isolating Jacob?

Ethan had no time to ponder, there was a storm coming, and Jacob was headed right in the middle of it. Before Ethan can take off to follow his son, he heard scuffling from the dining room.

Evie was staring at Mildred, looking very much relieved. Then her relief turned to confusion when she started sitting up. Her motions were jerky and stilted, twitching as she tried to stand. Clumps of her hair fell off.

“Grandma?” Evie asked, now looking afraid. She took a step back. “Father – there’s something wrong with grandma!”

Mildred groaned, and black began to spread under his skin. A horrible stench began to waft off from her, and as she struggled to stand up, she regurgitated blood.

Evie screamed, and with sudden speed, Mildred lunged at her granddaughter with a wailing cry. Evie was quick to dodge, but Mildred somehow managed to catch Evie by the torso.

Gears kicking into place, Ethan pried his mother-in-law off his daughter. He made a disgusted face as chunks of Mildred’s flesh fell off from where he grabbed her. Her attention now away from Evie, she turned to him.

Her eyes were milky-white and unfocused, and her face was decaying _fast._ She growled and turned to Ethan, her hands curled like talons, and then lunged for his neck. Ethan twisted off from her and kicked her in the face. She hit the floor with a sickening crunch, but then she was starting to stand up again. Ethan sidestepped when he heard a knife whizzing through the air, and it embedded itself deep into Mildred’s leg, pinning her into place.

“You can’t run, Ethan!” Her voice rasped horribly, blood gurgling in her mouth. “We will have the boy!”

Horrid cackling came out of Mildred’s lips, and Ethan took this opportunity to grab one of the stools in the kitchen and then smashed it into her head. Skin sloughed off her face, and the black continued to spread down her finger tips. Her jaw was broken, and left her mouth hanging in a scream. Even though Mildred was rapidly decomposing, she now had a sudden – inhuman – strength.

Before she could recover any further, Ethan went for Evie and yelled at George to run. Mildred was trying to remove the knife, but Ethan was already making his way upstairs, George and Mildred not too far behind. Ethan had no plans returning to his room, suspecting that it may be where the presences had come from, and opted for Evie’s room instead.

He opened the door and then dropped Evie in her bed, who was silent and face frozen in shock. Black ichor-like handprints were on the front of her dress from where Mildred charged at her. Ethan rushed back to the door, kept it open for George who was running like the devil was hot on his heels. In this case, it was, since Mildred now had the knife and was running for George. She wasn’t as fast, thanks to his efforts earlier, but she was gaining speed.

When George charged pats Ethan, he slammed the door shut. Both men were quick to push Evie’s wardrobe to block the door, ignoring the scratching and wailing Mildred made.

“So, your son gets possessed by the Devil and your mother-in-law rises from the dead.” George dropped to the floor into an ungraceful squat. “This is probably the most terrifying night of my life.”

“You can’t hide forever Ethan!” Mildred roared from behind the door, the sound of knife stabbing through wood was unbearably loud. Thankfully, Evie’s wardrobe was tall and sturdy enough to block her.

“Drop dead,” Ethan muttered. Then the scratching and wailing stopped.

Ethan narrowed his eyes. Why would Mildred – or whatever that’s using her body – stopped?

“You know,” she began. “Your son is all alone, with no one to protect him. Perhaps the next image he sees of you, he may be willing to agree to our terms this time around. After all, he is under the impression that you hate him for murdering me.”

Then Mildred slowly ambled away from Evie’s door.

“Shit,” Ethan cursed. He turned to George. “I need to get Jacob. I have weapons here.”

When George nodded, Ethan pushed Evie’s bed to the side, and then lifted off a few floorboards. There was a box containing a gun along with ammo, and another box containing two kukris and three cane swords plus a pair of brass knuckles. Ethan grabbed a kukri and threw one of the swords and the gun at George.

“I’ll be right back. I have a feeling she’ll be following me when I get out through the window. You can pull that bookshelf there and it’ll lead to Jacob’s room. I need you to distract her when I get out.”

Without getting much of a confirmation, Ethan pulled Evie’s bedroom window open. He met her eyes and she nodded resolutely at him. With that, Ethan took a deep breath and began to scale down from his house.

Thankfully, Evie’s bedroom was on the backside of the house. The backdoor opened, and Mildred’s rotten form began to shamble outside, moaning unintelligibly. She looked up and shrieked, pointing her decaying fingers at Ethan. She began to spew in Latin, cursing Ethan with every fibre of her being.

Before she could continue her tirade, a loud bang reverberated throughout the house, and a bullet ripped right through Mildred’s torso. Her innards threatened to spill out and her attention turned to something inside the house. Distracted, she forgot all about Ethan.

Ethan jumped down, landing on the wet mud gracelessly. He didn’t have time to linger before breaking off into a run, happy that he could follow Jacob’s tracks on the dirt despite the storm. It may be hard to see in front of him with the fog and rain, but Ethan managed to use his Sight to double check just in case he missed some of Jacob’s footsteps. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in the distance, but that didn’t deter Ethan from finding his son.

He shouted in relief when he saw Jacob, huddled under a tree for comfort, the same staff in Cecily’s box in his hands. Strangely enough, it was whole. Upon closer inspection, however, there were some minor differences between this staff and the one inside her box. This was more worn, used often. The one in Cecily’s box seemed like it was barely used at all.

Either way, Ethan can worry about the existence of the staff. He needed to get Jacob to safety first. However, it was a little hard to think of their home as safe at this point, considering the recent addition to the undead.

Ethan shook his head. He and George can take care of Mildred – she’s dead and losing her limbs, it wouldn’t be that hard to subdue her, right?

Jacob woke up at some point, apologising and looking like he could hardly believe that it was actually Ethan that was taking him back to the shelter. Worse was Jacob practically begging Ethan to abandon him.

What Jacob saw probably skewed his perception of Ethan. It angered and terrified Ethan all at once. It just made him feel all the more horrible as a father, and frankly, Ethan can hardly blame Jacob for what he thought. It must have been a piece of cake for the Devil to take his form and lure Jacob into doing its bidding. Perhaps Jacob really didn’t know him the same way he didn’t really know Jacob.

For some reason, the presences were fixated on Jacob, and there was another one intent on truly protecting him. As Ethan trudged through the mud, he thought of digging up some old books on how to ward their house from these presences. Perhaps burn Cecily’s… yet Ethan would loathe to do so. There has to be a way without destroying whatever it was Cecily left behind.

Ethan had no more time to think, as he approached their house. A strange silence settled on it, and darkness seem to emanate from every window. Evie’s bedroom was still lit. And so was his room.

Then Jacob froze, holding onto the staff like a lifeline. The boy had his eyes screwed shut, as if he was trying not to listen to something. He was shaking his head, trying to shake a presence (definitely, Ethan concluded, as he turned his Sight on), but seemed to be failing. A blow glow came from his hands and it touched one of the runes embedded on the staff. The ruby glowed a deep blue, and purple light washed over the two of them.

It was rather warm and comforting, and Ethan was grateful for it. He then went for approaching the backdoor Mildred didn’t bother to close, and then it slammed shut.

“It’s here,” Jacob muttered, trying to hide from the presences.

“I know,” Ethan said. Jacob was gold in his Sight, and Ethan had no idea if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Inside, George was swinging his cane almost wildly on his own, but Ethan knew better than to think that his apprentice was alone. He couldn’t see Mildred, however, if Ethan focused a little and tried to see past the monochrome.... Her form seemed to emanate a strange aura, as if it was sucking all the light in. “Whatever it is, it… hasn’t left.”

George made a large swing, and it looked like what he slashed at fell to the floor. A loud creak filled the silence and Mildred’s moan followed. It wasn’t safe to take Jacob in yet.

Ethan can climb up the window, but that doesn’t seem to be a good idea if he slipped with Jacob in hand. On the other hand, Jacob and Evie had been using the supply shed as a hiding place for their games, and the wood was strong enough to hold Mildred off, maybe.

He set Jacob down and led him to it, hoping that he and George can take Mildred and let the nightmare end.

Ethan began to warn Jacob about Mildred, and guilt just poured out from the boy in waves. Ethan wanted to laugh when he contested her state of being, seeing as they’re both wrong about the fact that she was either dead or alive, rather she’s undead so that’s not quite alive either. After explaining the situation and Jacob needed to do once it’s safe, Ethan opened the shed and led Jacob in.

Jacob held on to the staff even as he was about to shut the door. Terrified that this may be the last day Ethan was alive, he stopped Jacob. He bent down to give Jacob a quick kiss on the forehead and ruffled his hair. He hoped it was enough. It had to be enough.

“Jacob, son… you do know that I love you and I am proud of you, right?”

“I…. Yeah… I do.” Ethan’s heart sunk when he realised that Jacob didn’t believe him then. Well… maybe it would be far more beneficial to truly kill Mildred Howell née Davies. At this point, the only way to put her down was probably burn and salt her remains.

With that, he left Jacob, hoping that the shed was safe enough. Jacob closed the doors loudly, and Ethan didn’t leave until he heard the bolts clicking shut.

He sighed deeply. Time to face his in-law.

Before Ethan had the chance to storm his own house, George jumped out of the window Jacob burned – Mildred following right after he rolled out of the way. She made a loud, almost comical, splat on the muddy ground. She quickly pushed herself up, moaning.

A sudden chill seemed to have settled over Ethan’s bones, and he glanced at George to see him dropping to his knees.  Ethan quickly pulled George to his side, ice seemingly pulling them down. Mildred had lost more chunks of her flesh and had decomposed in that short amount of time Ethan left. It didn’t seem to stop her from making her way to Ethan and George.

Scratching caught his attention, and he glanced around until his gaze settled on the source. The shed doors were shaking, and he could see the wood splintering and creaking. Then it stopped.

“Father!” It was Evie’s voice screaming, and Ethan cursed. His limbs were getting heavier, and keeping George upright was practically painful. Both of them were frozen to the spot, unable to do anything. He glared at Mildred, black bile dripping down her agape mouth.

A loud explosion rocked the ground; and the shed doors burst open, wood flying in the air. Jacob rushed out, pale and terrified – as if something was following him out.

“Jacob!” Ethan turned on his Sight, but he couldn’t see anything at first glance. When he tried focusing, it was the same darkened presence that seemed to suck all light that followed Jacob. That caught Mildred’s attention, and then she began making her way to his son.

Ethan tried to fight the exhaustion threatening to force him on his knees, and he almost sighed in relief now that the probably source was now focused elsewhere. Before he and George can rush to Jacob, Evie came rushing out.

“Father! There’s something inside!” Ethan cursed and turned to look at where she was pointing. It was hard to see the presence that followed her, but Ethan can somehow feel it all the same. Static rushed up his spine, made his hair stand on end.

“You want me because I'm a Dreamer - Somniari - right?” That caught Ethan and Evie’s attention, and they both turned to him.

He was talking to the presence – presences – and by the sound of it… Was Jacob planning to sacrifice himself?

Alarmed, Ethan called out. “Wait – Jacob – “

The look in his eyes was hard and full of determination. Whatever fear he felt was no longer in his expression, and it just broke Ethan’s heart at how brave he was right then and there. Except, Jacob was giving himself up so that the presences would leave. Ethan had no idea what to do, hiding Evie behind his back.

“Then come and get me!”

Then the world began to shift.

The muddy earth turned to dark stone, and everything around them began to float. Shadows seem to whisper in gibberish and the storm clouds began to swirl into an enormous eye. Green mist floated in the air, and the Frye home began to disintegrate into the air.

Then, finally, Ethan saw them.

Four creatures surrounded Jacob, each as monstrous as the other despite their somewhat humanoid form. Mildred no longer had her form, rather it was a humanoid thing with frostbitten limbs. Another one looked similar to a woman, naked and sinuous like a snake, yet purple scales covered its form and enormous horns sprouted from its forehead. The other one was emaciated looking, with the legs of a spider sprouting from its back and a fleshy arachnid-like creature covered its face and kept jagged teeth visible. The last one was enormous, bipedal and muscular, purple scales and hide covered its form, and like the second – horns covered its head.

George geared up for an attack, raising his sword.

Before anything of them can do anything, the presences – monsters – blurred out of existence, multi-coloured lights surrounding Jacob in a lethal embrace. His eyes were screwed shut, and his expression was of pure concentration.

The lights all tried to reach inside Jacob, trying to forcefully sink under his skin, but it looked like his son had it under control.

“Jacob – “Before Ethan can say more, Jacob’s eyes snapped open.

They glowed a brilliant gold, and with a sudden burst, fire exploded outwards. It glowed white-hot, blinding even. The ground around Jacob cracked and flew outwards, trees around him bursting into flame. He was lost within the circle of fire, everything around Jacob immolated. Smoke rose in the air and covered much of the clearing, hiding the flames away from view.

A loud rumble pierced through the air, and the smoke began to clear.

Jacob was safe. That was good.

Except, it wasn’t over.

The biggest creature was still there, surrounded by the dead bodies of its companions, already disintegrating into the air. Mildred’s corpse was practically charcoal at this point.

The biggest creature stood up, laughing horribly. Jacob looked exhausted, and whatever trick he just did won’t probably happen again.

“Thank you, Jacob. That eliminated the competition very nicely. I'll be sure to take good care of your sister dearest.”

“No! Leave my _children_ alone!” Ethan rushed forward with his Kukri. He pushed Evie off to George, brandishing his weapon.

Before he can take another step closer, a whip made of lightning flew straight for Ethan’s neck. Cursing, he raised his kukri instinctively to block, but seeing that the monster’s weapon cleave through ground easily had Ethan’s hope crashing down.

Before it could reach him, warmth trickled down from his head to his toes, green light blinding Ethan for a second or two. He can feel his exhaustion and some of the burns he got from Jacob earlier fade – and he actually had no idea that he was injured until he felt it, the adrenaline must have blocked the pain away.

The monster was angry, that was certain, and then it threw its whip again with a terrifying roar. It bounced off harmlessly, the static almost dying in the dark stone.

“That’s enough for today, _lethallin_.” A voice came from the darkness of the woods, and a cloaked man stepped out. He carried an aged staff, made of wood and well-taken care of, an unpolished sapphire held together by branch-like designs at the top. His hands were glowing green and he held it out at the monster. “It’s time for you to return home.”

The monster threw its whip again, and the stranger slammed his staff on the ground. A wall of ice covered him; the whip cut through it, but the man already threw his arm forward into a punch. A fist made of stone swept through the field and hit the monster right in the face. It flew past a row of trees, uprooting the ones that weren’t floating.

Before it could recover, the stranger raised his hand and green light ripped through the air like fabric. Then the creature began to disintegrate, fading into the rip in the air until it was nothing more than green light. In seconds, it was gone.

The stranger began to speak with Jacob, approaching. Ethan can still feel himself reeling through the shock. Now that the danger was gone, and the world was actually returning to the muddy storm-beaten home in Crawley – Ethan can finally take a deep breath and let the relief wash over him.

Ethan blocked him, and proceeded to demand answers. When the man removed his hood, Ethan had to contain his shock. An elf. The man who saved them was an elf of some sort.

The Master Assassin continued to question the elf – Solas – about the creatures, about what took place this night. It was all hard to believe, despite the proof standing in front of him. Both Evie and Jacob actually looked amazed at the existence of magic, but Jacob didn’t look surprised by it. Somehow, in that short amount of time he spent running in the storm, he managed to find out about its existence. Who could have shown him?

George had questions of his own, and they both stiffened at the mention of Templars. It seemed that despite the millennia long war, their reach extended far too long in ancient history, if Solas’ mention of predating the Precursors were anything to go by. Even if Solas said that the Templars of his time were different, the same could be said of the Assassins. If the Templars of old have taken to locking up people simply for being different and controlling their freedom, then Ethan will do anything he can to keep Jacob away from them.

At the mention of another name, Ethan turned to George and nodded. They would both obtain as much information as they can from Solas, find ways to protect Jacob so whatever that happened tonight never happened again.

For now, Jacob and Evie needed to rest, after all the excitement. Both of them were swaying sleepily on their sleep anyway. Jacob also had a fever, and the physician George called for the other night – Christ! The physician!

The twins yawned and Ethan was quick to pick them up. Solas promised to protect their home, and George will hopefully fix whatever damage Jacob caused to the house. It was hard to hide the enormous smoking crater, but it could be said that Solas caused it. Ethan had no idea how the Council will react, but it would be best for them to think that Jacob was as harmless as the child he was.

With that, Ethan trudged all the way to his room, the exhaustion returning to his limbs. Last night had been the most life-changing, and Ethan had no idea what to do next. Jacob was susceptible to demonic possession due to his abilities – to his magic – and it was probably the strangest thing Ethan had encountered. The fact that Cecily descended from magic – mages – even stranger. Although, that explained her possessions, but she didn’t have any magic in her.

It seemed to Ethan that their new elven friend _had_ been watching them, for years at least, if his timely rescue was anything to go by. So Solas let the demons have their way with Jacob earlier, and it seemed on that time, his son was able to resist. Solas let the demons corner them, perhaps he was measuring how powerful Jacob was, right after his son exhausted himself and killed three out of four.

As Ethan kicked his bedroom door open and deposited each twin into bed before sinking down with them, he focused on getting some sleep while his head swam with questions.

Stranger still was the world Jacob dragged them into, that allowed them to see the presences haunting the house. It seemed to distort time, because Ethan was sure that the incident happened within an hour. Except it was morning now. Did the second world somehow distort time?

Ethan shook his head. The twins were already asleep, clinging to each arm. He could always ask Solas.

 

* * *

 

 

_Two hours later_

Jacob was murmuring in his sleep, as he was talking with someone. Maybe he was.

Either way, Ethan was restless with the little sleep he had, so he gently eased each twin off his arm and headed downstairs.

Evie’s door was still barred, but Ethan can move the wardrobe later. The kitchen was a mess, scorch marks around the window Jacob escaped from with warped glass on the floor. Their supper remained half-eaten on the dinner table, flies already made it their home, and the distinct smell of spoilt food wafting from it. Knowing that they don’t have anyone anymore to clean after them, Ethan dumped all the contents of each plate into the largest pot and bought them over to the kitchen. The spoilt supper was then dumped into the bin, and Ethan put all the cutlery and plates in the sink.

He peeked through the window, and George was still outside and it looked like he was observing whatever it was that Solas was doing. Using his staff, the elf had been tracing intricate patterns outside their house on the dirt. It would glow a light green for a second or two before fading away. The crater was thankfully out of the Frye home boundary.

Ethan sighed as he scrubbed off the grim from the plates, mulling over what he needed to do. First, get Mildred’s corpse properly salted and burnt. Hold a wake for her as well, but it would be difficult to explain to the neighbours why she was cremated on the day of her death. There was also the matter of explaining the existence of magic and demons. It was true that the Precursors had it with their artefacts, but coming from a source that predated them? Well, Solas will have a busy day.

Speaking of Solas, Ethan didn’t see or understand much about the elf in their short interaction. It could be possible that his motivation for helping them was to help preserve a long-forgotten part of his history. It could be that he may be planning something sinister for Jacob. Either way, it was hard to see past his polite smile and attitude hard to pinpoint his goal. However, Solas did promise to teach Jacob how to control his abilities, perhaps the elf will reveal himself in time.

Plates and pot dried and stored, Ethan made his way outside. Solas already circled the house, front and back, and was now kneeling in a dirt circle surrounded by more dirt runes.  George wasn’t too far away, observing the elf as he worked his magic. Green light seeped underneath the bald elf, following the patterns traced on the muddy earth, glowing for a good five minutes. The markings began to float in the air, and then it dissipated into particles of light.

With that, Solas stood up, staring at the mud in his trousers and boots. His eyes settled on Ethan, and the assassin nodded in reply.

 Mildred’s corpse was nowhere to be seen, and Ethan now noticed a jar of the black ichor the demons left behind.

“We burned her properly,” George answered. “I salted it, just in case.”

Solas’ lips curved into an amused smile, he just shook his head instead of saying anything about what was probably a superstition. “I understand you have questions, and I would be happy to answer them to the best of my capacity.”

“Where did Jacob’s magic come from?” was the first thing Ethan asked. It must have been from Cecily. She had the exact same staff in the box, like the one Solas was holding now.

“From his mother, of course. She descended from what we once called magisters. In my time, they were once called House Pavus. Her ancestor had no desire for women, but he had performed a ritual of sorts to impregnate a surrogate.” Solas gestured towards the house. “I believe it is best to answer these questions once your fellows have arrived? Ser Westhouse already sent word.”

Ethan nodded, content for now. There were rumours about Cecily’s father, now that he thought about it. Most of them were her father selling his soul to create the best metals in Crawley. The fires in his foundries burnt hotter and purer than any. With nothing much to do, perhaps Ethan and George can repair some of the damage to their home.

The shed doors had to wait, so both men focused on the broken window first. It wasn’t that hard to fix. The shed thankfully had a spare frame and glass to replace it. By the time the two were finished, Ethan was stewing in anticipation.

According to George, two council members would be visiting, and if he could wake up Jacob to demonstrate his abilities, that would be great.

At some point, the physician arrived, and Ethan led the doctor to his room. Thankfully, Jacob’s fever broke and he only needed bed rest at this point. Ethan glanced at an empty bottle half-full with red liquid on his dresser. It must have been Solas’ work.

Ethan let the doctor out and let the Council members in. He then led them to the parlour, nearly silently walking through the hall.

 _‘This is it,’_ Ethan thought, rubbing his neck nervously. The front door closed on its own, and that caught their attention as they sat down on one of the loveseats in the parlour.

“Some of the novices guarding your home have reported a fire last night,” one of the Council members – Elizabeth Raleigh – spoke. “They also said you had been missing for hours, and we were about to send a search party, yet here you are. Safe and sound.”

Solas, thankfully, chose that moment to enter the room near silently. He had his hood up, and it hid his face in the shadows. His eyes were luminescent, like a cat, and the Council had taken to staring at him.

Solas gracefully settled in an arm chair close to Ethan. George was nowhere to be seen. He looked amused, and his smile grew when he took his hood off to reveal the pointed ears. He crossed his fingers together and leaned back.

“This is Solas. According to him, he came from a time before the Precursors. Last of the elves.” Ethan really wanted a drink, now that he thought about it. “He can also provide some details about what transpired last night, because I myself had been trying to understand what happened.”

The other Council member – Owen Tillman – turned to the Ethan. “George mentioned in his missive, there were creatures – actual demons – that haunted your home.”

“That is true, they were targeting my son due to his potential to have certain abilities. From what I gathered from Jacob last night, they intend to turn him into their host.” Ethan turned to Solas. “Is that right?”

“Yes. As a child, he is rather susceptible to possession,” Solas’ tone was a little off though. His expression was of someone who was thinking of something contrary to what he said. Interesting. “He had come from a line of magic, and demons have always have been attracted to those that have it. It’s a way for them to enter our world physically.”

“We have heard reports about possession – children who seemingly warp into monsters – are these the same?” Raleigh was already taking out a notebook, a fountain pen already in her fingers.

“Some. However, it will be difficult to tell without investigating it for myself.”

Then the two Council members began to grill Solas about mages and magic. What can mages do, what exactly were Jacob’s abilities, how did he inherit them, etc, etc.

Ethan just went over a quick account with Jacob’s possession; and assured the two Council members that yes, they have it under control – and no, Jacob won’t be getting possessed any time soon. Solas already saw to it, and since the man was an elf and had come from a time when it was commonplace, it shouldn’t be hard for him to counter it. All the demons that were hanging about were gone anyway, and that Solas already killed them with his magic. The elf also ended up demonstrating the same cold green fire from earlier, let the two assassins touch it. They both looked intrigued by the concept.

Raleigh looked extremely interested with what a _Dreamer_ can do exactly. The concept of being able to kill another in their sleep was extremely useful, especially against the Templars. Except Solas warned that it will attract more demons, and it may easily influence Jacob into possession, again. On the other hand, whenever the mention of Jacob and dreams came up, Solas had this pensive look on his face that something didn’t fit with Jacob at all.

As for Tillman, he grilled Solas on what the Fade was and its relation to the barrier known as the Veil. It seemed like the Veil was thrice as thick compared from his time, which was why there were fewer mages born every generation. This subject was something the elf enjoyed to talk about, as he proceeded to explain how it worked and how can one access its powers. He also spoke about how it could have influenced men and women in the past, how its memories would linger on those who dreamed, or how it helped shaped the culture and civilisations present today.

Eventually, Solas had provided any and all satisfactory answers, and had pledged to taking Jacob as his apprentice to help defend himself from future attacks and perhaps hone his gifts for the benefit of humanity. With that, Ethan had taken to see the Council members off, relieved that neither had suggested to take Jacob off into some remote area far away from his family. From what Solas explained about Circle Towers, many mages in the past often ended up desperate and the possibility of them consorting with demons grew once they feel that there was no other choice for them.

After they had gone, George slunk from the stairwell and just told Ethan he needed to attend to another mission and won’t be home until the following night.

That just left Solas and Ethan.

Outside, the clouds obscured the afternoon sun.

Without Mildred to cook for them, Ethan had taken to buying some scones and jam from a nearby bakery, and he also brewed tea for himself and Solas. They ended up in the kitchen.

“Is there something unusual about Jacob?” Ethan began. “I know you said you were the same kind of mage, but you had this look on your face that you think that there is something not right with him.”

“How observant,” Solas chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. “Yes, you are right. There is something about him that did not sit well with me. He is _much_ more susceptible to demons than the average Dreamer. From what I could gather when I saw some of his memories lingering in the house, he can hear the voices of the Fade singing.”

Ethan raised a brow. He did hear the dissonant voices whispering, but it was a lot more like a crowd murmuring silently behind his ear, with no tune or melody to accompany them. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I…” Solas hesitated, hiding his mouth behind his cup. Then he put it down without drinking. “There are certain people who can hear singing, and they usually undergo a ritual to hear it. That is of course, a sign of impending death for them. We also have a certain mineral that can emulate it, but it is so deep underground that no miner can find it nowadays. However, Jacob did not undergo such ritual, nor is he near such material. It doesn’t make any sense for him to hear singing.”

“So, he’s not dying, then?” Ethan asked, worried. Technically, the whole situation worried him to no end. Just what had they all gotten themselves into?

“No. I do suspect, that it may have something to do with proximity.” Solas glanced up, and then turned back to Ethan. “He spoke of a mutual friend – Senriel Lavellan – he is another elf from my time. However, he is a… deity, of sorts. He is currently in a trance-like state, asleep even. He has been asleep for over a thousand years.”

“What does it have to do with Jacob?” Ethan ran his hand through his hair, not liking the fact that there were so many unknown variables to their current situation. “Jacob mentioned him, but I gather that they must have met in a dream.”

“Yes, they did. It was Senriel’s staff that he held earlier. His actual staff. It’s rather similar to the one your wife had – the two were made from the same dragon, and what she had was a gift to her ancestor.” Solas looked nostalgic at the mention, but then he cleared his throat. “I am getting off-track. I apologise about that. What I meant to say, perhaps his proximity to Senriel is the reason for the singing he heard. Senriel, like some of the deities of our time, attracted Dreamers. It would manifest in the form of singing – I believe it was once to call out followers to worship the deity.”

“Does he want Jacob to worship him?” Ethan raised his brow. “Or does he want Jacob to wake him up from whatever sleep he put himself into.”

Solas shook his head. “No, I believe that this is entirely unintentional. He has no plans waking up from his enchanted sleep. He placed protections in his crypt to ward out intruders, and he made sure to hide his tomb as far away from civilisation as possible. Even I do not know where he is located.”

Perhaps Solas did have a motive.

“How about you?” Ethan asked. “Do you want to wake him up?”

“Of course, Senriel is one of the last things that remained with our world.” Solas heaved a sigh, and Ethan was surprised with the honesty of Solas’ answer. “However, I believe that he wouldn’t be amendable to waking up. He…. Well, he will be waking up to world that had moved on without him. All of our friends and families are long dead, and our people – or what remained of the elves – are sparsely hidden and none would have known their existence unless you delve deep within untouched forests or move so far away from civilisation.”

“I feel there is something more to that.” Ethan took a deep gulp of his tea and poured another. “I don’t think that’s a reason good enough to sleep for thousands of years.”

Solas smiled, apologetic. “You’re right, however I am afraid I can’t tell you the exact reason why he chose to sleep. On another day, perhaps?”

Ethan nodded. “Fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

_19 October 1854_

They held a wake for Mildred, friends and families alike visited and mourned. Solas spent that time hiding away atop the roof, entertaining whomever assassin that visited. George couldn’t stay at that time, having to attend to a mission in Brighton. He promised to bring some seashells for Evie and Jacob, though.

Many questioned why Mildred was immediately cremated by those not part of the order, Ethan simply explained that her death was an accident and there was nothing to be done with the state of her body to look good for the wake.

It was rather unsettling to stare at the stopped clocks and cloth-covered mirrors for the last four days. Thankfully, not much candles or flowers were needed to hide any sort of smell. Ethan wanted to keep it simple and simply put the urn of her ashes in the parlour. It did garner them strange looks, seeing as it wasn’t a common thing to do.

The wake passed in three days, and Ethan can only sigh in exhaustion. He was thankful that he bothered to learn how to cook, and the food he served during interment was decent enough. Solas helped clean up after the wake, and Ethan could kiss the elf. The mage did most of the cleaning by levitating furniture and using wind to sweep out the dust. It had been easier to mop up and wipe the rest of the place after the wake.

Evie and Jacob helped clean up as well, and Solas took that opportunity to teach Jacob how to levitate things.

“It’s hard,” Jacob muttered, hand held out in front of him as he tried to lift a lampstand. “Making fire is easier.”

Solas patted him on the head. “I know, but it’s best to learn control first. Senriel, with enough control, can create shapes with his flames. Would you like to learn the same?”

To demonstrate, Solas let fire come to life in his hand. With barely any change on his expression, it turned into a hummingbird, zipping around Jacob in the air. That seemed to motivate him.

Ethan couldn’t help but frown. It looked dangerous, and as far as he knew Jacob, the boy doesn’t exactly have enough patience to manage such control. So, he kept silent instead. Evie, on the other hand, looked as mesmerised as her twin. She approached him as Jacob tried lifting the lampstand again. His hands glowed gold as he tried.

“Father, Jacob’s my twin, right?” she began with a hopeful tone. “Will I get magic like him?”

Ethan thought about it. He hoped not. One was enough. Besides, Jacob’s magic came with a price. His son was susceptible to getting possessed by demons who only want to cause chaos and misery to others. One day, both may see it that way. “I don’t know, Evie. You can always ask Solas if you will.”

She bit her lips and just nodded. Still, her eyes lingered on Jacob who was only managing to make the lampstand wobble unsteadily in place. Solas, on the other hand, held the parlour loveseat and armchair afloat with tendrils of green surrounding them.

After cleaning up, Ethan was faced with the task for cooking. Thankfully, Solas volunteered.

“You have been working hard,” the elf said, smiling. When does he not smile? “Please, allow me. Rest up and spend time with your children, Ser Frye.”

“Ethan. If you’re staying with us and teaching my son, may as well call me by name.” Ethan gave Solas a grateful look, as the elf then took over preparing their dinner that noon.

“Very well then, Ethan.” Solas said his name like he was trying it, and the assassin simply nodded in acknowledgement. Still, it was… strange to hear the elf call him by name. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Solas made them stew and rye bread. It was rather savoury and Ethan found himself getting seconds. Jacob was rather quiet at the dinner table, concentrating on finishing his meal as quick as he can, almost ignored Evie even. Ethan had a feeling that his mind still lingered on the night he was nearly possessed, killing Mildred, and then fleeing to the woods.

“Do you want to eat somewhere else?” Ethan asked, noting Jacob’s discomfort. The boy glanced up and then shook his head.

“M’fine.” He proceeded to stuff his mouth with bread. “Just hungry.”

Ethan raised his brow, but let the matter go for now. They still had training to take care of – mostly were just academics, the twins still need to learn how to read and write. Evie had taken to the academics very well, while Jacob was mostly interested in whatever fiction he could get his hands on. It was rather adorable when both children actually turned starry-eyed at princes rescuing princesses imprisoned in towers guarded by a dragon.

After dinner, Ethan grabbed the plates and was a little surprised that Jacob followed to help him wash up. It was spent mostly in silence, and Jacob was quick to run off to Solas’ side once they finished.

Solas was in the study, making use of the chalkboard Ethan used to teach the two their letters. Evie was already there in the seat in front of his desk, silently reading albeit slowly. Jacob listened to Solas with rapt attention as he showed the boy how to levitate objects with the use of illustrations.

It was hard not to think of Solas not planning this from the beginning. The elf was quick to settle down, practically domestic after four days of staying. It’s either that Solas already had a study guide for Jacob long before they met or it could also be possible he was simply revisiting what he once learned when magic was still a common thing.

So, Ethan took his seat in the study and began to teach Evie. He did notice her sparing glances at Jacob and Solas every now and then, quietly tracing patterns atop the desk. It was hard not to believe that she could be envious of Jacob’s magic. Solas, on the other hand, was quick to praise Jacob once he managed to easily lift a feather before moving to a pile of heavily bound books. Jacob practically glowed at the compliment.

Soon enough, it was almost supper time, and Ethan just reheated the leftover soup Solas left on the stove. He also made a quick run to the bakery before it closed, and bought meat pies good for four. As Ethan returned home, perhaps it was best to hire servants and a cook now that Mildred was gone. It was something that he could take care of in the morning.

Besides, it’s not like the Fryes could not afford it. Then again, it would be difficult to explain why there was an elf in the household.

So, it would be best to get a servant from the Brotherhood. They do train novices to become good spies by teaching them household chores or how to blend in the background as servants. It’s a lot like killing two birds with one stone. Ethan can focus on training the novice and his children to become good assassins, Solas’ existence could be kept a secret, and someone would help take care of the house.

Supper had been another quiet affair, but that was fine. The children were still recovering from the ordeal, and were extremely tired after cleaning up after the wake and studying. Neither fought much when Ethan bathed them later before sending them off to bed, and by the time he got down to clean up, Solas already finished doing so.

“You know, I never imagined myself doing household work for a human, yet here I am.” He looked amused and wistful. “I suppose Senriel would be laughing at me now.”

“You sound fond of him, was he your student?” Ethan asked, adjusting a nearby gaslight to near dimness.

“Of sorts. I did mentor him. He was a creative mage and engineer, give him a schematic and he will improve the design. Just don’t ask him to paint or sing.” Solas chuckled. “He learned fast, but was prone to causing destruction.”

“A little like Jacob, then.”

“Yes, they are rather similar. Perhaps he took the form of a child to be Jacob’s friend.” Solas straightened his clothes. Ethan would also consider getting Solas proper ones as well. They do have tailors in the Brotherhood. “I suppose that would make sense for him. Evie though, reminded me a little of Senriel’s brother. The thoughtful older sibling.”

“Is he another deity we should watch out for?” Ethan then began to make his way back to the study and gestured for Solas to follow, ready to prepare some letters to hire help.

“No. Senriel Lavellan was born mortal, Tellan Lavellan was his older brother.”

Ethan settled on his chair, took out some paper and grabbed one of his fountain pens. He sighed, watching Solas sit down parallel to him. Better start setting some ground rules then.

“I would still like to teach Jacob the Creed,” Ethan began in a light tone. “I also would like to discuss your… living arrangements. Where do you even sleep?”

“Outside,” Solas paused. “I am used to it.”

“Well, you’re one Jacob’s teachers now.” Ethan took a deep breath. “I’ll have someone clear out Mildred’s room. You can stay there. I’m also getting one of our tailors to get you some clothes. I imagine rags wouldn’t be very comfortable.”

“You have my thanks. I would like to keep my robes, however. A remnant of our time.”

Ethan shrugged. “I see no issue with it.”

“Is there something else that you wish to discuss?” Solas leaned back on his chair, his eyes a little luminescent in the dim light.

“Like I said, I still wish to teach Jacob the Creed. I know you plan on waking his new friend, and perhaps I can put some word in with the Council to search wherever he would be entombed.” Ethan knew it may be a great risk, but if it meant gaining a valuable ally for the assassin’s – why not? They owe Solas that, at least. The elf saved their lives, may as well save his friend. Even if Senriel Lavellan was a deity of sorts, he wouldn’t be much harm if Jacob came back from those meetings happy. “I recommend alternating days for teaching him, except I usually have the twins rest on the weekends.

“Every other week, three alternating days for Jacob to learn the Creed and then two for the next week. Same goes for learning magic.”

“I see no harm in it. I think it would be good for your son to learn how to hone his body as well as his mind. Physical training will give him focus for our lessons as well.”

“They still need to learn reading and writing,” Ethan pointed out. “If you are in need of books, or if any sort of literature survived from your timeline, I’ll have someone look into it.”

“Again, my thanks.” Solas then looked contemplative, and then continued. “If it’s no burden, I have an… artefact of sorts in need of retrieval. It’s currently inactive, however I believe it is in the hands of your enemy.”

Ethan, alarmed, focused all his attention on what the elf had to say. If the Templars had it, they may use it against the Brotherhood in their millennia-long war. Especially if it was an artefact that predated the Precursors. Considering what Ethan saw of Jacob and Solas’ capabilities, it could damn well be frightening.

“It’s… a mirror, of sorts. They’re known as Eluvians, an artefact of the Elvhenan. They allow users to travel from one place to another. From remote forests to far-flung ruins. At the hands of the wrong people… it may spell disaster.”

“Done. If you know any other artefacts that we should be on the watch for, now would be a good time to mention them.”

Seeing the opportunity, Solas continued.

Ethan’s brows furrowed deeper as Solas continued to provide more information about any other artefacts that may have survived. Orbs that bought destruction, knives that were used for strange and obscure rituals, staffs that still held power, and many others that had Ethan sending out a messenger crow as soon as Solas was finished. The first destruction of the world, Solas said, may have erased many of these artefacts from existence, but there was the possibility that many survived.

“That’s not counting the second destruction – the time when the Precursors were practically wiped out of existence.” Solas actually looked nostalgic at that, and Ethan would have to get the details from the elf at some point. “Senriel had taken to travelling through the Eluvians at that point, before he decided to find a dark cave to sleep for eternity.”

“Speaking of which,” Ethan interrupted. “You mentioned nostalgia was your reason for wanting to wake him up, but I feel it’s more than that. Does the destruction of the world have anything to do with his sleep and lack of desire to wake?”

Solas pursed his lips, and then sighed. He looked like he was giving up a terrible secret, and Ethan had a feeling that this would be one he would be taking to his grave.

“The Precursors feared him. After all, he was the one responsible for the two times the world was destroyed.”

Ethan felt like the world was swept under him. He agreed to wake up someone who destroyed the world, not once, but twice. A single elf, a deity, who managed to nearly wipe out the Precursors. Yet the way Solas spoke of Senriel Lavellan, it was a lot like a father to a child. What Ethan didn’t understand was Solas providing the truth before they could even wake his companion. Wouldn’t it be better that Solas told him that _after_ Senriel Lavellan woke up?

“I suppose you will find out sooner than later, and in my experience – later tends to cause more… rifts, plenty of anger on the part of the deceived. Besides, both times were extenuating circumstances. We had no choice at that time. It’s either wipe out the planet or watch it wither and rot away.”

“And destroying it was easier?” Ethan asked, feeling a little sick.

Solas smiled his mysterious smile and the world around them began to shift and warp.

They stood atop a fort overlooking battered ramparts. The groans of the dying filled the air, and Ethan can see translucent beings (humans and non-humans) running about, carrying the dead and dying.

“Where’s Tellan?” A boy passed him by, and Solas began following the boy. As they walked, the people around them began to lose their translucency until everyone were as solid as Ethan was.

“That is Senriel Lavellan.” He barely even reached Ethan’s chest.

He looked like he would belong somewhere in East Asia. His features were delicate and soft, his ears were pointed and large, and bright blue marks accentuated with gold followed intricate patterns on his skin except on his face. What caught Ethan’s attention were his slanted blue-gold eyes, with pupils as narrow slits similar to a snake. He wore a red scarf around his neck, and a coat made of hide. He had light greaves and arm-guards to protect his limbs, but Ethan found himself drawn to the dragon staff on his back.

If Solas didn’t say who the boy was, Ethan would have hardly believed him responsible for destroying the world. Senriel was practically skin and bones, and Ethan can definitely lift him with just one arm. Yet here he was, barking orders at whoever passed him by and everyone were quick to follow whatever he said.

Eventually, they followed him to a large antechamber inside the fort. Men and women laid across the space, moaning in pain in their cots. A redhaired woman approached Senriel, and they began to discuss the casualties of the last battle. Strangely enough, there were a couple of men and women in blue-silver armour forcing the wounded to drink from a silver chalice.

“They are… prolonging the lives of some of the soldiers, so that they could fight again.” A lot choked and died from whatever it was they drank from, but others simply fell unconscious.

“War forced him?” Ethan asked, watching one of the wounded twitch into stillness. “I don’t understand what could possibly be so horrible to warrant the end of the world.”

“Allow me,” Solas continued and the world shifted again.

Now they were overlooking through a large clearing, a battalion of men and women in armour and robes guarding an enormous fort.  Senriel was at the very front, his back to the men and women. He raised his staff and fire began to rain from the skies.

Over the distance, Ethan can see a great shadow approaching, the flames smashing through many of them. As they got closer, Ethan realised that there was something wrong.

The very ground the opposing army stepped on turned black, all plant life it touched withering away into blackened stalks. As they stepped closer, Ethan thought it were dying men fighting, but he realised that the snarling and gurgling were the actual sounds these creatures were making. They were getting closer and closer, and Ethan realised that these were not living creatures that Senriel Lavellan were fighting.

They were the undead.                                                                                                                                                                                             

Everything they touched withered and died, rotting from within.

Worse was the fact that there were so many of them. From his location, it looked like an enormous shadow was approaching across the land, darkness seeping away all the light. Except, the enormous shadow were these creatures, leeching everything away.

More fire rained from the sky, yet the shadow continued in its approach, seemingly unhindered. Frustrated, Senriel slammed his staff on the ground and blue light began to surround him.

In a matter of seconds, an enormous black dragon with blue markings stood in his place. The dragon roared and all the men and women behind it roared in reply. Soon, they all charged forward and met the creatures head on. The dragon took off to the skies and began to breathe blue fire across the clearing, turning many of the creatures into ash. Yet their advance never seemed to stop, as if something was mass-producing these creatures.

Soon enough, the army of humans were completely overrun, and the creatures were already climbing up the stone walls of the fort they tried to defend. The dragon let out a mournful cry and breathed fire at the monsters trying to climb up. There were just so many of them.

“What are they?” Ethan can feel himself shake. What if these creatures were just waiting for the right time to strike back? If that was the case, then they would definitely need someone like Senriel Lavellan to fight them.

“Darkspawn. Soulless husks that parody life. They are horrid creatures that bring only plague and death to the land. Whenever they amass into a horde under the call of an Archdemon, we call it the Blight.” Then the world shifted again, except this time, the two stood in what remained of the world.

There was fire everywhere, and at the very centre of the destruction stood Senriel Lavellan. Charred bodies surrounded him, and Ethan couldn’t identify any if it were the creatures or the survivors of the Blight. The skies were cheerfully bright, yet smoke was rising up from the ground. There were a few survivors, of course, but many will not survive until the next day.

Senriel was looking up, and then strange things began to descend from the skies. Enormous hunks of metal began to crash from the skies, but Senriel held a hand glowing blue up. All of it began to float gently to the earth, eased by magic by a lone mage.

When all of them landed safely, enormous doors began to slide down, and Ethan had to hold his breath.

The Precursors.

Solas waved his hand, and Ethan almost jumped when the two were suddenly so close to the elf that destroyed the earth. He had a tired expression that looked out of place from his youthful face. He crossed his arms with his staff in the crook of his arm, and stared at the humanoid creatures descending from what looked like ships from the sky.

The Precursors were speaking among themselves in their language, and Senriel’s expression turned annoyed. Without a warning, he stomped a barefoot on the earth. The world rumbled and shook, the ground cracking and shifting in reply.

“I saved your lives. What do you want?” the elf demanded. The earth stopped shaking and the Precursors turned their attention to him.

“We are the Isu,” one of the Precursors approached. Senriel narrowed his eyes at the female humanoid. They were all larger than ordinary humans, and something about their largeness did not sit well with the elf. “I am Minerva. We wish to help your race rebuild. We only ask for your… assistance.”

“My name is Senriel Lavellan. Vara min an,” he warned. “We do not need your help.”

“Perhaps you do,” another Precursor approached. “Look at your planet. It’s destroyed and all the civilisations are gone. You need our help.”

“Fen’Harel ma halam.” Senriel smiled, cruel and bitter. “If you can make fire rain from the skies and flatten mountains into the ground, I would love to see you try and get past me.”

However, before Senriel can demonstrate anything, his eyes suddenly widened. He clutched his head and glared at the Precursors surrounding him. A blast of blue exploded from Senriel, and it knocked many of them off their feet. Snarling, he threw his left hand up and the air ripped like fabric. Nearby Precursors screamed as they began to disintegrate into the rip in the Veil.

Some of the Precursors that held weapons shot at Senriel, but an enormous translucent globe now surrounded the elf. Their attacks bounced harmlessly, and whatever it was that he did to rip the Veil took plenty of concentration because it disappeared when he out up the shield. He narrowed his eyes at the Precursors, his pupils sharp and reptilian. He closed his eyes and the same blue light surrounded him. His silhouette began to grow until he towered over the Precursors. The light faded and it solidified the fact that it really was Senriel Lavellan who was the dragon from earlier.

The Precursors took a step back and Senriel roared threateningly at them. He swiped his tail at a gaggle of Precursors and then took off into the air. He swooped right back to grab as many of the surviving humans by tail before flying off. Strangely enough, his flight looked wobbly, as if he was expending far too much energy as a dragon.

Threat gone, the Precursors began to gather, speaking to one another in their language. Solas snapped his fingers, and the two then found themselves in what appeared to be a crumbling temple. Draconic and nocturnal motifs covered every inch, and the same creatures – the Darkspawn were trying to dig push a tomb open.

It glowed gold, but it looked like there were mages even within the soulless husks. Larger ones wearing robes were throwing bolts of light at the tomb, and the golden shield began to lose its power until dull obsidian remained.

The creatures all shrieked triumphantly and then pushed the lid open.

Black light exploded and Ethan didn’t have the chance to see whatever it was it contained. Instead, an enormous dragon perched atop the temple ceiling, just as corrupted as the creatures that woke it. It breathed multi-coloured flames before roaring and then flying out into the world outside.

“That is an Archdemon once known as Lusacan – Old Gods corrupted and maddened by the Blight. They amass the darkspawn into a horde and bring it to the world outside. Therefore, Senriel had to destroy the world.”

Then the world began to shift once more until the two were outside to observe the ruins of civilisation once more. It looked like enormous sinkholes dotted whatever land Senriel stood on, charred corpses that still held the shape of strange creatures filled the land. The whole world was almost burnt to the core, the person responsible at the very centre of it all. The sky was mournful this time, and Solas took them closer.

Senriel was curled into himself, hiding his face in his knees while he hugged them. His staff laid forgotten next to him, and when Ethan approached the teen, he can hear the elf sobbing to himself. It seemed to Ethan that Senriel regretted his decision. Billions of people dead just to stop the world from rotting from within.

When the assassin approached the boy, another Solas formed from the memories, speaking to Senriel.

“Ir abelas, lethallin.”

“Fuck off,” Senriel said, muffled, defeated. “I have no time to entertain you, Fen’Harel.”

“Yet I am not entertained,” the memory Solas – Fen’Harel – said. “I regret this outcome, but this is the only way to stop the Isu and ensure that our people will never be enslaved again.”

That seemed to anger Senriel as he then shot up, eyes glowing threateningly as he snarled at Solas. “Our people? You were fucking content to destroy the world after we defeated Corypheus! Just for what? Save the people from Mythal’s temple? Not for our – no – _my_ people who lived in alienages! _My_ people who lived in the wilds who had to fend ourselves from fucking humans who thought we were savages! _My_ people who were captured like cattle to be taken as slaves in the Imperium! Then look at you! You call humans of our time _our_ people now that the fucking Precursors enslaved so many of them after I killed so many of us! Why don’t you go back to your fucking _Arlathan_ and leave me the fuck alone!”

With that, Senriel heaved and panted, hands glowing red with flames. Fen’Harel, on the other hand, looked mournful.

“Lethallin – “

“Don’t you _dare_ call me lethallin! Because of you, my brother is dead! The man I love is dead! Everyone is dead! There’s no one left Solas! Not even Abelas or the Creators! You did this!” Senriel then turned deadly calm, his eyes colder than ice. “Ma banal ensalin.”

Fen’Harel looked devastated. Before he can speak, Senriel collapsed, his markings glowing in a swirl of blue and gold. He began to tremble, more of the strange language he spoke escaping from his lips in fevered murmurs. Fen’Harel rushed towards him, holding him up. Senriel shoved Fen’Harel off, glaring at the older elf before curling further within himself. A scream tore itself out of Senriel’s throat, and Fen’Harel looked resolute and grabbed Senriel by his arms.

“Don’t –“ before the younger elf can continue, his mouth snapped shut as he began to shake violently. Slowly, Fen’Harel began to murmur, but Senriel threw Fen’Harel off.

The teen stumbled away from the older mage, and he used his left hand to tear another rip in the Veil right in front of him. Without a single backwards glance, Senriel jumped inside and the rift stitched itself right away.

“Fenedhis!” Fen’Harel punched the ground, and then looked up to the sky.

The world began to fade and Ethan then found himself in total darkness with Solas. He bore the look of someone who was remembering a painful memory, but had grown accustomed to it in time.

It did terrify Ethan that out there, a moody teenager capable of bringing the world to destruction was asleep. Yet the possibility of something like the Blight happening meant that it was necessary to wake Senriel Lavellan up. At this point in time, it was necessary to choose the lesser of two evils.

“That was… enlightening,” Ethan began. A single being who could actually slay the Precursors, managed to destroy so many of them in a single swoop, was just asleep and was most likely playing like a child with his son. It was a lot to take in at once. “I – this is… Where do I even start?”

“We start, by waking up.”

Ethan stared at Solas in confusion. The elf smiled, and snapped his fingers.

Ethan Frye shot out of his bed, panting and a little confused with what just happened. The possibility that the last four days were nothing more but a fever dream occurred to him.

Except on his hand, was a piece of paper in what he recognised to be Solas’ handwriting.

_May you find answers in your dreams._

Groaning, Ethan went right back to sleep.


	5. if i know you

_ 8 November 1844 _

“No, not like that.” Senriel grabbed Jacob’s hands, and then began to demonstrate how his mana flowed in his fingers. “It’s not pipes and gears, but rivers and waterfalls. It’s not a machine that follows a schematic you built, but water flowing through paths that are already there.”

Jacob nodded and tried again. Veilfire sprouted from his fingertips, following intricate shapes in the air and Jacob held it for a few seconds. The Veilfire dissipated quick, but Senriel was pleased with Jacob’s progress.

Jacob grinned at the elf, proud that he managed to hold out the cold flames long enough to light a brazier. Jacob liked to think he had been learning well under Solas’ tutelage, even if it felt like the elf was quick to praise him for learning so quickly. Still, it would have been easier to have both mentors draw runes and Jacob could have easily learned everything that way.

“The easy way isn’t the only way,” Senriel often reminded him, eyes going sad. “Besides, if you learned that way, you won’t understand and you’ll simply do. If you just do what you’re told, what good will that be?”

“Well, not very good.” Jacob thought long and hard about it. True, he didn’t like being told what to do, but it was just easier learning by runes. Except, Jacob just learned the motions; and the one time he asked Solas about crafting spells, understanding how the Veil and mana and the Fade interacted with each other was vital. So, he conceded for now and let Senriel demonstrate a few more spells.

Which he was starting to notice to be without incantations or words. Senriel just shaped his magic, and poof, it does what he wanted. Senriel did sheepishly point out that magic came easily to him as far as he could remember. Then they started again on the fire spells.

“Except, magic comes as easily to you,” Senriel pointed out, as Jacob created a ball of flame. It exploded harmlessly on one of Skyhold’s recreated dummies. It reformed in a few seconds, and Jacob threw another ball of flame just to prove his point. “Not sure how immune are you, but it kinda develops naturally with time – especially if you have an affinity for certain elements.”

“Solas said fire is my affinity.” Jacob held the flame in his hands, amazed that he wasn’t burning. “He said you’re good at barriers too. Can you show me?”

“Ma nuvenin!” Senriel held his hands high and a translucent barrier floated about a foot above ground. The elf jumped up to it, and then he formed another one, and then jumped next to it. He continued making barriers and jumping up them until he was over twenty feet high in the air. 

At the very top, Senriel tilted his barrier as stoop as he could, flamed propelled him to slide down fast. Before Senriel can land, another barrier formed beneath and when his feet touched its surface, it made Senriel bounce up instead. Senriel began to zip around the air like an enormous lightning bug, fire dancing along with him. After minutes of showing off, Senriel close to Jacob with a proud grin.

“Teach me!” Jacob pulled himself up, eager to learn a new trick. 

The elf held a finger up, sticking his tongue out. “Only if you learn an ice spell.”

“But ice is hard.” Jacob frowned. Solas tried teaching him how to freeze things, but what Jacob managed for the past week was spread a layer of frost over a training dummy father fashioned from hay and rags. Solas did mention that ice magic was difficult for those attuned to fire, but learning other elements will help Jacob control fire even better. It was hard to see how it would work though.

“Okay, think of it as like… learning to run before learning to walk. When you can run fast, walking would be easy.” Senriel plopped on the imagined grass. Frost began to spread around his limbs, but quickly dissipated. He then had a pinched expression. “Hm… I think I may be rushing into things. You’re just learning frost, but Solas is still making you focus on spirit and veilfire, right?”

Jacob nodded. “I can make a decent barrier, I think. Uh, Solas said it’s all about reinforcing a magic shield with your will. It’s supposed to protect and heal, so that you can recover for the next attack.”

“Theoretically yes, it is for defending allies. You will need to familiarise yourself or cover your friends so that you don’t accidentally cast it on your enemies as well.” Senriel sat up, playing with a tiny ball of flame on his fingertips. “Do you know how?”

“Well… Solas says its different for other people, but it’s a lot like… tasting? I think, the people around me. The Sight helps me pick out the friends, and I sort of cover them with the barrier if they taste right.” Jacob scratched the back of his neck unsure to continue. Senriel looked intrigued though.

“It’s been so long ever since I last talked to a mage describing how they key in the presences of others,” Senriel closed his eyes and let the imaginary wind ruffle his hair. The elf seemed to remember himself then glanced back at the assassin to be, beaming. “So! I think we should keep working on spirit for now, so that Solas could move on to the next lessons.”

Jacob sat cross-legged and held his fingers together. He spread them apart and Veilfire sparked in his palm. He held the flames for ten seconds before it disappeared. The two spent the whole night just on Veilfire, seeing as it could show what flames and light could not. Veilfire were cold flames created from filtering light from the fabric separating both worlds and then bringing it to existence without fuel other than mana. It was difficult to cast, because Jacob had to make sure that the flames remain cold, except he can feel the fire under his skin waiting to explode. The whispers don’t bother him much anymore, but he did mention the singing to Senriel.

“Weird,” said Senriel as they continued working on Jacob’s barrier. “I’ve never heard singing, and from what I saw – you seem awfully susceptible to possession, even for a Somniari.”

Jacob pursed his lips, trying and failing not to think about the disaster last month. “Just glad I didn’t let them in.”   
  
“I am too.” Senriel had taken to staring Jacob’s glowing arm next, trying to discern why he was having difficulties willing his magic to turn into a barrier. “Maybe it’s because you’re near me?”

“Near you?” The barrier held for a good ten seconds, but it wasn’t as large or as strong as Senriel’s. Still, it was progress.

“Well,” Senriel began nervously. “I’m sort of a dragon… and people hear singing close to certain dragons.”

“Really? Can you turn into one now?” The barrier disappeared as its caster was now focused on something else. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Maybe next time?” Senriel said instead, nervously playing with his scarf. “It’s been a long time now since I last turned into a dragon. I don’t want to get stuck.”

“But why wouldn’t you want to be a dragon?” Jacob paused then thought of something else. “Can I turn into a dragon too? Will you show me how? You don’t need to turn into one to show me!”

Senriel laughed nervously, glancing around. “It’s… complicated. Uh, you have to do something just to kind of have the understanding and – I’ll explain when you understand more magical theory.”

Jacob sighed, but conceded. Well, it seemed like they were moving at a fast pace with magic anyway. Just a month ago, Jacob had already covered levitating and understood some theory behind it. He can life object about twice his height now, but not twice his weight. Which was fine, since Solas said that it’s like a muscle in need of practice and exercise. It’s a lot like using a big invisible hand made of magic to lift and make objects move. Sometimes, Jacob can even have many of those invisible hands.

Right now, Solas started Jacob on the Elemental schools, and they’ve been going over all four of the elements. Naturally, Jacob took well to Inferno and Storm, but was having difficulties with Winter and Spirit. The old elf then thought to focus on Spirit and Winter for now, since that’s where Jacob was having trouble the most.

Senriel then glanced at something in the skies, and Jacob followed his gaze to the floating city. It’s hard to make out much of its features other than it was covered with clouds. Light was flittering through it, and it seemed to signal something to Senriel. The elf then stood up, dusting his clothes.

“You’re about to wake up,” he pointed.

“Oh, well see you later tonight then!” Jacob grinned and then he took a deep breath.

It felt a lot like breaking through water, floating up until Jacob was in the surface. He blinked and his sight alternated between the Fade and his room. After a few more blinks, the Fade was completely gone and Jacob now found himself in the real world.

Jacob yawned, feeling a little groggy. Sunlight was already trying to peek past his window that made Jacob rub his eyes. He didn’t bother putting on shoes, too sleepy to manage tying his laces, and simply went out barefoot.

There were two novices awake already, one was sweeping the floors while the other was cleaning fixtures.

“Good morning,” Jacob greeted a little sleepily. He can still feel the lingering use of magic from his time at the Fade, but his reserves would be back to full after eating. However, he would sometimes hear Solas lamenting the lack of lyrium but thought it would be better it remained deep underground.

The novices greeted back cheerily, and the one sweeping actually stopped to approach Jacob. “Hey, is it alright if I you light this up for me?”

The novice held a firecracker in his hand, but the fuse was pretty long so it probably wouldn’t explode right away. Seeing no harm, Jacob pinched the fuse and fire sparked. The initiate grinned happily and then killed the flames.

“Uh?”

“Just wanted to see if it’ll work. There’s this novice from China who has a great and left it in my room. Something to look forward to, tomorrow. Consider it as an early surprise birthday present.”

Jacob beamed and nodded. “Really? Thanks!”

“Alright, I’ll show it later. Better get down, breakfast’s almost ready.”

With that, the novice returned to sweeping the halls while Jacob padded downstairs. He can already smell fresh bread and bacon wafting from the kitchen that made Jacob’s stomach growl. A little eager, he ran all the way down and then ended up hitting the back of Solas’ legs when he made a sharp turn for the kitchen. Jacob feel on his rear with a soft ‘oomp’ and Solas chuckled and turned to help him up.

After a month of living, Jacob’s father had somehow gotten Solas a plain cotton shirt and trousers, to replace the rags he once wore. Solas was already on his way to the dining room; and when the two arrived – Evie, father, and Uncle George -  were already on the dining table, some of the novices already bringing out food. They were having toast, bacon, eggs, and a platter of fruits for that day.

“Morning,” Jacob greeted, climbing up a chair. Solas took his place as well and then served himself a cup of tea.

Uncle George and Father discussed one of the targets, and then they went on and talked to Solas about rumours of artefacts he wanted. Father would describe an object, and if it was familiar with Solas, the elf would tell what it was and what it can do and how to touch it.

“I know the last Blight was thousands of years ago, but there are still objects in this world that carries their taint.” Solas took a sip of his tea, his free hand tapping a nonsense tune on the table. “If it falls to the wrong hands, the possibility of the corruption spreading is too great.”

“Well, if the parliament passes a new bill, we know what to blame.” Uncle George almost choked at what father said, and simply grabbed his still hot tea and downed it in a single gulp. He gave father some pointed looks, but Ethan Frye was in too good a mood to notice.

Solas chuckled and focused his attention on Jacob. “How are your dreams?”

“Practiced magic with Senriel,” Jacob replied, and then went on taking a large gulp of milk placed next to him. Then he remembered the wicked things the younger elf showed him. “He can jump around barriers with fire all over like a lightning bug! And – why didn’t you tell me he can turn into a dragon? I want to turn into a dragon too!”

“Ah, but years of practicing magic helped him turn into one.” Solas had this far-away look in his eyes again, like he was remembering something. Jacob glanced at father who now looked uncomfortable at the turn the conversation took, while Evie had this somewhat confused look.

“But, don’t dragons kidnap princesses and lock them up in towers?” Evie turned to Jacob. “Why do you want to become a dragon?”

“Well, Senriel is a nice elf, so he must be a nice dragon?” Jacob did think long and hard about it. Dragons like shiny things and they set villages on fire. Except the only shiny thing Senriel had was his staff and he doesn’t like setting people on fire. He liked setting  _ himself _ on fire, but he was fun to be with if he wasn’t making Jacob practice magic even in his sleep.

“Solas, I just thought, I don’t see you in my dreams. Didn’t you say people can meet other people in dreams, too?” Jacob stared at the elf who looked deep in thought. He just suddenly remembered that titbit, because both elves were using him like a postman to send each other messages. If the Fade can connect all the dreamers, shouldn’t the two be talking to each other already?

“It’s… very complicated Jacob. Senriel and I haven’t been… friends, of sorts, for a long time. The last time we spoke, he was very angry at me for something I did. To keep things peaceful, I thought to speak to him through you.” Solas put his teacup down and clasped his fingers together. He was smiling apologetically, but it didn’t make sense to Jacob. If Senriel was angry at Solas, shouldn’t Solas apologise or try to make peace on his own? Adults were weird like that. “And it helps train your memory, if anything.”

“Oh.” Jacob’s brows furrowed in thought. “Shouldn’t you say sorry though, if he’s angry?”

Solas laughed a little, shaking his head. “I was not sorry about what I did then. I don’t think he will like a false apology. Perhaps in time, we can speak without coming to blows again.”

Jacob frowned, but accepted what Solas said for what it was. Well, hopefully they make friends that night, because Solas would tell him a lot of things to tell Senriel. Thankfully, Senriel almost barely wanted to say anything to Solas, maybe ask how he was but that was it. Jacob wondered if he or Evie wrote down what Solas wanted to say in a piece of paper and he held on to it while asleep, should it appear in the Fade? If it does, that would make life easier for Jacob.

They finished breakfast eventually, and then Ethan herded off the twins to the backyard to train. They were still working on stealth, and Jacob was excited to try a few pointers from Senriel when he last talked to the elf about his assassin training.

There were a few novices with them, and the twins’ task were to make use of all the hiding spaces in their home starting from outside until they retrieve five handkerchiefs hidden within their home.

Jacob and Evie held hands until they got inside their home, giggling to themselves as the novices gave them a minute-long head start. Their first hiding place was the study. There was enough space in the cabinets for children six years of age, and the two fit in perfectly.

Jacob and Evie had to separate, and both paused as the study door opened with a light click.

Jacob kept his breathing even, pushed a tiny sliver of the cabinet door open and took a peek. Two novices were inside, observing the room, glancing around, but not opening anything yet. When the two had their backs to Jacob, he slid out as quietly as possible, and crawled under the desk. Jacob saw the handkerchief atop and groped for it until he touched the cloth. He hid it in his pocket.

The novices then started opening the cabinets. They started far from the area where he and Evie hid. Evie took that as her chance to sneak out next, crawling next to him under the table. The two tried not to laugh as the novices kept looking for a pair of mischievous twins to train their ability to track.

The two crouched, and then slipped out the open door.

At the end of the hall was another novice standing guard, his back to the twins. Evie then started pulling Jacob to the kitchen, where Solas was speaking to a novice cleaning the pot. The elf handed them their objective with an indulgent smile. Good thing this novice wasn’t part of the training, and the novice let them out the window when they asked.

Father was outside, gave them a slight waved, and the twins then headed for the window leading to the parlour. It was open, and Evie snuck in sneakily. She pulled Jacob up, and the carpet softened his feet thudding on the floor.

At the centre table was one of the handkerchiefs they needed to retrieve, and Evie quickly pocketed it. They nodded to each other, but ducked behind the couch when the door began to rattle open. There was a click, and it swung open almost noisily. A novice stepped in, glancing around any possible hiding spaces. His footsteps were muffled by the carpet, but the twins moved when they heard the novice approach.

“Found em!” she shouted, and the twins yelped when she was suddenly behind them, diving to catch the nearest twin.

Evie ducked and the two then ran out the door.

Out the hall, a novice stood ready to catch either or both, and Evie quickly slid down under him.  Jacob followed, but the novice managed to catch him by the shoulders, laughing.

Jacob wriggled, flailing around at the off chance the novice can’t hold on to him. Except the novice was built with bricks with enormous muscles.

He can see Evie hiding at the corner, biting her lips as she tried to plan how to free him.

Feeling inspired, he stilled. The novice then slung Jacob over his shoulder, but that’s when the mage took his chance.

Jacob knew that ice magic was difficult for him, and it seemed like a good time to test out if he had any improvements. He gathered mana at his fingertips and focused them on the novice’s feet. Trying to envision the winters in Crawley, he saw in his mind’s eye ice climbing up the novice’s legs. 

The magic was slow, practically a crawl, but Jacob whooped in victory when a thin layer of ice encased the novice’s feet.

“What the – “Distracted, Jacob set the bottom of the novice’s suit on fire, and the enormous teenager ended up dropping him gracelessly on the floor as he tried to kill the flames. “Cheeky little bugger!”

Jacob stuck his tongue out and skidded past Evie, who was already running right behind him.

“That was brilliant!” Evie laughed as they ran. The two decided to head upstairs, almost slipping to a halt when a novice stood guard at the very top of the stairwell. Jacob and Evie glanced at each other in silent agreement.

They rushed up and then grabbed the novice’s legs, pushing him forward so that none of them fell, and then Jacob used his somewhat mediocre ice magic to freeze the novice’s feet on the floor.

The two then quickly hid in Jacob’s room and locked it.

Atop his bed was another handkerchief. Jacob hid it in his pocket. The knob began to click, someone was cursing on the other side.

“Your room?” Jacob asked, but Evie was already pulling the bookcase. The gap was just big enough for one child, and both easily slipped through as the door burst open. Using levitation, Jacob managed to shut the bookcase passage before the novice could pull it open. Evie’s door started to rattle and Jacob used his magic instinctively to keep it closed.

“It’s in my wardrobe.” Evie pulled it open and grabbed their third objective. At that time, the rattling on the bookshelf and door stopped, so the twins opted for the window. It’s likely that the novices were waiting outside for them. Jacob pulled the window open, and he was about to climb out when he saw a novice trying to climb up.

Jacob shut the window and closed the drapes. The other two novices were trying to open the other two entryways now that neither sibling was attempting to get out. The twins were trapped.

Evie sighed. “At least we got all the handkerchiefs.”

Jacob, not wanting to give up, grabbed Evie’s hand. “I have an idea.”

Solas just told him how it generally worked, and Jacob hasn’t even given it a try yet. He was practicing Winter magic anyway, so it could be a good chance to give this spell a try.

He loosened his hold on Evie’s door, and it suddenly burst open. The novice almost fell forward, but managed to catch her balance. Gripping Evie’s hand tight, Jacob gathered his mana cover him and Evie and forced Winter to manifest instead of Inferno.

They blurred forward, phasing through the Novice and then materialised right in the middle of the stairs. Jacob pitched forward, feeling breathless and exhausted. He felt like he ran around the Frye estate perimeter for a whole day without rest.

“Come on! We’re almost there!” Evie was practically carrying Jacob as they made their way downstairs. She was a lot stronger than she looked, and she almost easily pulled Jacob outside. The novices were climbing out their window one by one, and Jacob glanced up, trying to gather mana for another spell.

A barrier flickered around him and Evie, barely enough to block five assassins in training. Ethan Frye was waiting under the shade of a tree, with seven assassins racing to get to him first. Before Jacob and Evie reached their father, they were all lifted in the air by five teenaged trainees and proceeded to nick the handkerchiefs they gathered.

Before either twin can protest, they were all carried by laughing trainees back to their father. Jacob spent the whole time trying not to fall asleep and was rewarded by reliving his experience as a sack of potatoes. He was yawning by the time the novice put him down. 

“Ten minutes,” father declared. “Not bad.”

Evie beamed at the compliment while Jacob coloured under the praise, still unused to it coming from Ethan Frye.

“Anything interesting?”

“Jacob set me robes on fire, again.”

“The ice is new.”

“Jacob made us teleport so we got a head start on the way back!”

“Ah, that  _ is  _ new, anything to say, Jacob?”

Jacob snored in response.

He was sitting cross-legged, but his head was down at an awkward angle. His snores were light and Evie poking him in the arm didn’t wake him up. When Evie pushed him, he just slumped into an unconscious heap on the grass.

“Weird, I’m not tired,” Evie declared, trying to shake her brother awake. Jacob just curled into himself, muttering in his sleep.

“The magic must have exhausted him. He’d be sleeping for the whole day.” Ethan then bent over and picked up his unconscious son. “Alright, continue with the drills. Add ten laps around the house.”

The novices all nodded and did what was asked. Evie then followed her father back into their home. Both passed by Solas, reading a letter in the hallway, and gave him a slight nod in greeting which he returned. Ethan just deposited his sleeping son on bed and tucked his blankets half-way, just in case it gets hot in the afternoon.

Jacob then slept the whole day away.

* * *

 

_ 9 November 1844 _

“Happy Birthday!” Senriel greeted the moment Jacob found himself in the Fade. They were in an enormous clearing full of lightning bugs under the moonlight. There was a big fire in the very centre, and Jacob can see the spirits dancing happily to a cheery tune. Everyone present were elves. Strangely enough, all of the bigger elves had tattoos on their faces.

“Thank you,” Jacob flushed a little when Senriel then pulled him to the centre of the clearing. There were other children playing tag and dancing along with the adults. There were large boars roasting in pits and a lot of elves cooking something savoury in pots. It smelled a lot like the stew Solas made last month.

In the very centre of the fire were three elves, one looked like an older Senriel and the other one looked like his sister while the last was their mother, and all of them were dancing. They circled and jumped to the tune, flames swirling around them in different patterns, sometimes bursting into multi-coloured lights.

“Is that your brother?” Jacob pointed. Senriel laughed and shook his head.

“No, that’s me when I’m older.” Senriel pointed to another elf. His features were sharper than Senriel’s, a lot more masculine. The tattoos on his face were thin and were mostly diamond-shapes. His hair was long and tied to a low ponytail. “ _ That's _ my brother, Tellan.”

Senriel and a few other elves were the only ones without facial tattoos, and Jacob noticed that it was actually adults that held them. Everyone looked happy, clapping and singing to the tune. A lot of the kids were imitating the three dancers, others were play-fighting or hunting. It didn’t look like there were houses nearby, but Jacob can see people going inside vehicles that looked like ships on land. There were plenty of white deer and he saw a circle of old elves sharing a pipe.

“Where is he now?” Jacob glanced around. It looked like the night wasn’t ending. It also felt like that Senriel wasn’t going to teach him any spells or train him today. It was fine. The whole atmosphere was nice.

“He… Well, he fought an evil dragon to protect his one true love.” Senriel was staring at Tellan the same way father would stare at mum’s stuff. It looked like Senriel missed his older sibling dearly. “They’re together in a place where dragons can’t find them.”

“Does that mean you can’t find them either?” Jacob stared at Senriel who didn’t answer. The elf was just looking at his brother. It didn’t look like he was about to cry, but he looked very sad. Like he’d want to be the elf that he would be dancing in the flames. He sighed, but Senriel was smiling when he looked back at Jacob. He then led them together to one of the many logs scattered around that served as benches.

“How old are you now, Jacob?”

Well, Senriel didn’t answer his question, but Jacob decided it was one of those things that he does sometimes. Not talk about what made him sad.

“Seven. Evie is too. We’re twins.” Jacob pursed his lips. “She’s just four minutes old, but she likes saying that she’s older. That’s stupid, we have the same birthday.”

“Older siblings are just annoying like that,” Senriel agreed. “If she isn’t annoying, she’d be boring.”

“But she’s boring too. She likes those big stupid books that father always makes us read.” Jacob made a face at the prospect of reading old stuff made by old people. “I don’t even get why  _ ‘Veni, vidi, vici’ _ is related to being an assassin. We just stab people, right?”

“Maybe,” Senriel answered instead. “I dunno Jacob, maybe it has something to do with your Templars? I mean, maybe that’s how they think so you think of how to stop them before they do something horrible, right?”

“Huh. Never thought of it like that.” Jacob started tracing patterns on the dirt. An invisible wind kept on blowing it away. “Father’s been being weird though.”

“Oh?” Senriel fixed the scarf around his neck. He looked different from the other elves. They were all wearing robes and leather, while Senriel was wearing something close to what Jacob wore. “Why weird?”

“I dunno. Ever since the demons tried to get me, father’s been… I really don’t know. Just weird.” Jacob huffed in slight frustration. “Solas just laughs. Why is Solas always happy?”

“You should have seen him when I convinced a spirit to turn human.” Senriel snorted. “Well… I think your dad is trying, but he kinda doesn’t know how to try so he just ends up being awkward and all.”

“Trying what?”

“To be a better dad, but I think you’ve been sticking to Solas this past few weeks as much as possible. He doesn’t know what to do because you’ve been telling all your problems to Solas. Knowing him, he’d probably tell bits and pieces and let your dad find shi– stuff on his own. He was crafty like that.”

“So… my father’s been asking Solas about me?” Jacob really had no idea what to feel about it. On one hand, there’s something warm in his chest at the thought of his father actually trying to understand him instead of making him feel down ever since the night he got possessed. “Wait, how’d you know?”

“I see your dad’s dreams. In fact, we can see their dreams, but some of the stuff your dad dreams of are weird. That and I really don’t want to bump into Solas.” Senriel sighed at a look Jacob gave him. “It’s complicated. I’m not angry at him, but I might be if he says the wrong thing. And I’m actually pretty tired of being angry and accidentally hurting someone.”

“Oh.” That Jacob understood. The last time Jacob felt a silver of anger, it was being fuelled by four demons trying to get a ride. “Sorry.”

“What ever are you sorry for?” Senriel messed Jacob’s hair, and the assassin in training retaliated by trying to mess Senriel’s already messy locks. The two wrestled and rolled in the mud recreated in the Fade, laughing as they tried to one up the other. Jacob kept on trying to sit on Senriel while the elf attempted to trap him in an arm lock. Senriel tried to tickle Jacob at the sides, but only Evie knew where he was ticklish. He then pinched the back of Senriel’s ears, and the elf yelped in surprise. Distracted, Jacob tackled the smaller kid and then sat on top of Senriel’s back, grinning smugly.

“Alright, alright. You got me.” Senriel slumped, propping his chin under his hand. “Will you let me go now?”

“No.” Jacob proved his point by planting his feet firmly on the dirt. “Because if you’re sitting down on me, I’d get even when I can.”

“Well, I’m not you,” Senriel pointed out, tapping his fingers on the ground impatiently. He tried kicking his legs, but Jacob kept poking him behind his ear. “Just because you’d do it, doesn’t mean I would.”

“No way I’m standing up.” Jacob wanted to relax, but he had a feeling that the elf will retaliate once his guard was down. “I’m sitting down until Evie or father wakes me up.”

“For Mythal’s – you can’t sit on me forever, Jacob!” Senriel tried wriggling, but he saw Jacob preparing to give him another jab behind the ears. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Jacob raised a brow, and then he yelped in surprise when Senriel used magic to throw him off. The elf grinned and stood up triumphantly. “Ha!”

“Hey! No fair,” Jacob pouted, getting up from where he hit the tree. It was a very soft tree though, and nothing hurt. “You used magic!”

“No one said we can’t use magic!” Senriel laughed, spinning on his heel and holding up veilfire on his right hand. “Got ya with just a mind blast.”

With no desire to give up without a fight, Jacob used his newly learned trick to pass through Senriel. Thankfully, it didn’t leave him winded like it did that morning. Senriel yelped at the sudden cold, and then jumped to the side when Jacob tried to tackle him one more time.

Instead of falling flat on his face, the assassin training kicked in and Jacob shifted his balance to rush at Senriel. The elf wasn’t able to react right away and fell flat on his back. Since Jacob was bigger and heavier than Senriel, grabbed both of the other boy’s hands and sat on his chest.

“Leggo!” Senriel was laughing, trying to shake the human boy off. “I’m not going to make training easy for you!”

“Never!” Jacob was laughing just as well. Senriel used magic again to throw Jacob off, and Jacob used it to catch the elf when he tried running away. They spent the whole night playing around the memory of Senriel’s clan, chasing each other through elves that sang and danced in the wild. Neither got tired, but the two found themselves lying down on the dirt, watching Senriel and his once mentors dance an eternity in the flames.

Jacob can only stare, mesmerised at the many colours their magic produced, flying up in the endless sky to disappear within the floating city.

Time had no meaning in the Fade, and it felt like an eternity before Jacob can feel himself stir awake. As if sensing his restlessness, Senriel turned to Jacob.

“I’ll show you something. Consider it an early birthday present.” Senriel stood up and held his hand out to Jacob.

Hesitantly, Jacob took it.

Senriel’s hand was smaller than Jacob’s, but it was warm with magic. There were hints of something blue tracing patterns around his arm, and Jacob can almost make out what it looked like under the wispy green light of the Fade.

Senriel led him to another place; it was an endless expanse of sand and stars, but it was still within the Fade. The elf then led Jacob to a single rock jutting out of the landscape.

“Stand here,” the elf instructed and then let go. He then ran about a good twenty feet away from Jacob. The elf took a deep breath and closed his eyes, blue light pooling at the bottom of his feet. The light began to grow, it reached higher and began to spread wider. It warped, taking an indefinite shape, and then settled into an enormous form.

Jacob’s eyes widened when the light floated away to reveal an enormous black dragon with blue markings. Its underbelly held a hint of gold, and it was a little like an Oriental dragon because it was very long and almost snake-like. Its wings were enormous and shaped like a bat’s, while the horns on top of its head were deer-like. Its eyes were a deep blue, with vibrant gold at the very centre around the pupil.

“Senriel?” Jacob asked, staring at the wondrous creature. “Is that you?”

The dragon – Senriel – snorted in reply, circling around Jacob and then settled his head right next to the rock where the boy stood. Senriel had his claws tucked beneath his body and it reminded Jacob of a cat for some reason. Up close, he could see the brilliance of each scale, almost metallic in its lustre. Senriel’s eyes almost had no whites in it, and the oval pupils have finally sharpened into thin reptilian slits. The claws looked very sharp and very well-maintained, but the elf just kept it tucked under his body.

“You’re a dragon,” Jacob repeated. The dragon rolled his eyes, obviously. “Can you fly?”

Senriel lowered his body even further, and then looked at Jacob expectantly. Feeling as if it was an invitation, Jacob climbed up Senriel’s head hesitantly. He made his way on to Senriel’s collar and sat down, clinging to the scales on the draconic back.

“Brilliant,” Jacob breathed, eyes wide. “You’re brilliant.”

The dragon huffed loudly, smoke rising out of its nostrils. It reared back, wings nearly blotting out the skies, and then took off.

Jacob knew that the Fade was partly creation of the spirits and his and Senriel’s combined imagination, but he still whooped and shouted as the wind rushed through his ears. He held his hands up to touch the clouds and marvelled at how soft they were even if they were cold. Then Senriel dove forward and Jacob found himself clinging to the dragon’s neck.

So this was what falling was like.

Jacob laughed and shouted in delight as Senriel spun as they swooped to the endless sky of the Fade. Before they hit the ground of one of the many domains, Senriel snapped his wings wide and then turned up sharply. The dragon made five more quick spins in the air, speeding towards the many floating islands before turning sharply elsewhere.

Eventually, Senriel slowed down, and gently descended on one of the many floating islands, still far from the floating city. Jacob jumped off Senriel’s back, and then the dragon glowed a deep blue before turning back into the tiny six-year-old elven child.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Jacob grabbed Senriel’s shoulders and pulled him into a big hug, laughing. Senriel was laughing too, just as happy as Jacob was. “Best birthday present ever!”

“Nah, it’s not much. If I wanted to give you an awesome birthday present, I’d turn you into a dragon.” Senriel patted Jacob on the back, seemingly unused to showing affection. Jacob pulled away, too giddy to realise that Senriel just offered to turn him into a dragon.

The elf glanced up and a thoughtful frown crossed his expression. “It’s almost time for you to wake up….”

Senriel glanced around, and Jacob observed their location. They’re inside the Frye estate again, and Jacob can hear a woman singing.

“I landed here for a reason.” Senriel began to walk through the endless halls full of closed doors. Jacob followed.

Before they could reach the end, Senriel stopped in front of one of the doors and pushed it open. He entered the room, held the door open as Jacob padded closer. The room was mostly awash in grey, the only colours that were not muted were yellow and red. This was the music room.

It was always locked, but Jacob broke into it once.

White sheets usually covered the grand piano, covered the music stands and a harpsichord pushed to the corner. The violin case was gathering dust, the instrument inside untouched. Spiders made the music room their home, and thick drapes kept the sunlight from getting in.

Except the music room in the Fade wasn’t covered in cobwebs and perpetual darkness. Even grey, Jacob can see the light flittering through open drapes. The grand piano’s lid was propped fully open, and the violin was in the hands of the most beautiful woman Jacob had ever seen.

Her belly was large, but that just made her prettier. Her hair was pulled into a braided bun and she was only wearing a thin layer of rogue on her cheeks. She was playing some cheery tune with her violin, something Jacob often heard from their Welsh grandmother. She was humming too.

“Mum?” Jacob stepped forward and reached for her. His hand passed through. Hurt gathered in his chest and he turned back to Senriel.

Senriel gave him a sad look and just glanced back at Cecily Frye. Jacob swallowed and grabbed his hand. Senriel looked surprised, but his eyes turned resolute and twined their fingers together, squeezing Jacob’s hand in comfort. They both turned back to Jacob’s mother.

She continued to play, swaying slightly as her humming slowly turned into singing. Jacob doesn’t speak Welsh, but it was a beautiful song anyway. When she finished, Jacob almost jumped when he heard someone clapping.

There was a stood behind mum, and there sat father. His smile was enormous as he took mum in his arms, kissing her cheeks happily. They held each other like that, father’s hand on mum’s stomach. They just stood there, stuck in time.

“Thank you,” Jacob whispered. He can feel the warmth of Senriel’s hands seeping into his own. Their magic twining together as they watched one of the last memories of Cecily Frye when she was alive.

The four of them remained there. Jacob and Senriel watching, while Cecily and Ethan Frye embraced and cherished each other.

Jacob’s chest felt light and heavy at the same time, he felt like he could climb up their chimney and jump his last leap of faith. Time seemed to stretch on, and everything around Jacob began to dim. Senriel’s warmth began to fade away, and when Jacob blinked, the last he saw was his parents giving each other a tender kiss to the lips as the memory went away.

Tears were already falling from Jacob’s eyes when he woke up, feeling bereft. He wanted to go back to sleep, right then and there, just to see the memory again. Except, it was just that, a memory.

He still had father, Evie, Uncle George, and Solas outside the Fade – outside the dreams. Jacob wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, coughing a little. His throat felt scratchy, but it was already going away. Sniffling a little, Jacob got out of bed and put his shoes on.

Usually, he would head out using his door, but he pulled the passage to Evie’s room instead. She was asleep, strangely enough. The sun was almost out, and she would usually be awake early in the morning. However, Jacob can only focus on the fact that Evie was in bed.

Taking a deep breath, he kicked his shoes off and then slipped under her covers, holding her hand tight. She stirred a little at the motion, and Evie blinked before turning to her side where Jacob lay.

“Jacob? Bad dream?” she asked, already pulling him into a hug.

“No, but it was a sad dream.” Jacob returned the embrace, eyes fluttering shut. “I dreamt about mum.”

“Oh…” Evie went quiet, eyes fully opened. Both lay still, letting the silence pass by. When it was a little more comfortable, Evie asked: “What did you dream about her?”

Jacob took a deep breath. “I dreamt that she was in the music room, father was watching her sing and play the violin.”

“That sounds nice,” Evie said. “I dream about mum, too. Sometimes.”

“Really?” Jacob shifted a little when he felt like his arm was falling asleep. “What do you dream about her?”

“Sometimes, she reads fairy tales to us while we were still in her tummy. Sometimes, she plays the piano with father in the afternoons. Sometimes, she sits outside our house, watching the clouds pass by under a tree.” Evie took a deep breath. “Solas says that sometimes, spirits stay in one place. Do you think mum has always been here? In our dreams?”

“Maybe,” Jacob replied. “Maybe she was protecting us.”

The two stayed like that, relaxed but not sleepy. Jacob hadn’t really thought of what his role had been in his mother’s passing. It was hard not to accept that she died because of Jacob. On the flashes of memory, the desire demon imprinted in his head, Cecily Frye was fine until she went through the second labour to give birth to Jacob. Except, there was still something missing there. The memory was incomplete, and the demon picked the most painful point to hurt Ethan Frye. Jacob still wanted to know more, but Jacob had no idea if he really wanted to see more of his mother, to be reminded of what could not be.

“Jacob? Evie?” It was Solas’ voice outside her room. “I know today is a weekend, but we have breakfast ready.”

The twins broke the hug and sat up. “Do you still want to go to sleep?” Evie played with her pigtails, Solas braided it for her as well the night before.

“No, and I’m a little hungry.” With that, the two got off bed and put on their shoes.

Solas was already smiling at them when Evie pulled the door open.

“Come now, we have a feast prepared.” The twins glanced at each other in slight confusion. They usually only had enough prepared for breakfast, and it was rare that Solas would wake them up during the weekends. They were usually allowed to sleep in as long as they liked, and the novices would just bring out toast and jam whenever they got hungry.

The halls were practically empty, no novices cleaning up or taking laundry to their respective rooms. Confused, the two followed Solas as he led them through the kitchen instead of the dining room. The door to that area was closed as well.

“Here, take these.” He then handed them both strips of white cloth. Evie and Jacob glanced at each other, silently communicating the unusualness of the day. Solas gave them one of his mysterious smiles and proceeded to blindfold the twins. “Don’t take them off just yet.”

The elf then opened the backdoor, and Jacob bounced impatiently on his feet they were led outside by the shoulder. The grass crunched beneath their feet, and he could feel Evie grabbing his hand. They squeezed their fingers together as Solas led them away from their backyard. Suddenly, he stopped and Jacob almost pulled Evie to the ground if not for Solas’ firm grip.

“Alright,” father’s voice said loudly. “Take off your blindfolds.”

Jacob then grabbed the back of the cloth and pulled the knot deftly. The mage then blinked at the sight.

An enormous table covered in cloth was in the centre of the clearing, with tinier round tables around it. An enormous cake was at the very centre, with white frosting and candy flowers and seven candles on top. There was an enormous ham leg with glazed syrup on a platter, tinier cakes with whipped cream topped with fruit slices. There was cottage pie, black pudding, and roast beef as well. There were mashers, beans, and salad pushed to the corner behind the ham. Solas was right, there was a feast.

“Happy weekend?” Evie asked, eyes just as wide.

“It’s your birthday – birthdays.” Ethan patted the twins on the head. “Your seventh birthday, remember?”

Jacob and Evie had matching expressions of surprise. Since the first thing that Jacob did was seek comfort from Evie after a sad dream, the fact that today was their birthday was completely forgotten.

The cake levitated over the twins and the novices managed to harmonise a cheery song. Solas lit the candles with magic, and Jacob and Evie tried to blow each one as quick as possible and then argued who killed the most flames.

Solas was quick to distract them by making lightning fly between his fingers, promising to show the twins a lightning storm after eating.

Jacob was quick to get to the ham and black pudding, almost ignoring the other dishes if not for his father putting bits of the pies or vegetables on his plate. Evie took to the tiny cakes and Solas took to giving her something other than sweets to eat.

After an hour, almost all the food were gone, even the cake. All the novices were hungry teenagers, and were practically inhaling what they could get their hands on. They did leave most of the cake to the twins, and when the two were too full to eat, they decimated it just as quickly.

The novice that talk to Jacob yesterday bought out a whole crate of fireworks and got a slight cuff for attempting to give the twins firecrackers.

“Straight out of Shanghai,” he bragged, propping the fireworks far away from them. Jacob met his eyes, and in silent agreement, Jacob set off a weak fire spell that lit up the fuses. The novice ran as quick as he can to a safer area, and simply watched the show. It was still morning, but the skies were drab and grey, so the explosions contrasted against it in bursts of neon.

After all the fireworks died down, Solas proceeded to create a dragon made out of ice with magic. It was the size of a cat, nothing too big to cause alarm.

It flew and twisted in the air, spinning around the twins in quick circles, and breathing flurries of ice and snow. At closer inspection, Jacob realised that the dragon was the form of a friend.

“It looks like Senriel,” he said letting it crawl up his arm. “Except it’s a different colour.”

Solas nodded, and he let the dragon disappear through the clouds - never to be seen again unless Solas felt like casting the same spell. “His draconic form is majestic, more serpentine than any dragon we encountered.”

To show the difference, more dragon ice imitations formed. A lot of them looked bulkier than Senriel’s form, and none held the light of the elf’s intelligence. However, there was one dragon that caught Jacob’s attention. It was sleeker and sharper in feature, its horns curved in almost elegant points, and the ice managed to imitate something… old.

“What dragon is that?” Jacob pointed, strangely fascinated.

“That is the uncorrupted form of an Archdemon known as Lusacan.” Solas had it roar and it breathed Veilfire. “He was slain by Senriel at the last Blight.”

Senriel’s draconic imitation descended from the sky and then roared at the archdemon. It circled each other, flying around in battle. The Archdemon swooped down and Senriel followed, raking his claws on the dragon's back. The two began to grapple in the air, trying to drag the other down. Eventually, Senriel managed to weaken the other dragon, and it came crashing. It didn't bother to get up, curling into itself as Senriel glided down to deliver the finishing blow. Before it could continue, Solas dispersed the ice. 

“That'd be one interesting fight. Bleeding brilliant,” a novice commented. 

Jacob agreed. It was lacking that they didn't see the results, even if he knew it was Senriel that won. 

“A rather interesting thing was that your ancestors, the Pavus, were once worshippers of Lusacan, before it converted to another religion after it phased out because of the Blight.”

Ethan cleared his throat. “Exciting as it is, we need to fit new shoes and clothes for you both. Since we're going to town, if the two of you want to purchase something, now would be a good time.”

“Anything?” Evie asked, excited. 

“Yes, but only one thing.”

That got the twins rushing back inside their house. Jacob grabbed a grey ribbon for his collar and put on his barely used boots instead of his well-worn shoes. There was a brush on Jacob's dresser and he just ran it through his hair once. When done, he rushed out his room and then slid down the rails.

Evie wasn't too far behind, and she was quick to follow Jacob's lead as she slid down next.

There was a carriage outside, and father and two of the novices waited on the porch. Ethan and his kids got in, while the novices remained outside to drive.

Father kept the window opened, and Jacob and Evie spent most of the time ribbing each other on what they wanted to buy. Eventually, they stopped by an antiquarian and the twins sighed in disappointment when their father mentioned this was their first stop. 

“Could be worse,” one novice muttered loud enough.

The three got in the antique shop. Father went to the back to speak with the owner, while Jacob and Evie had taken to exploring the dusty shelves lining the place. They didn’t last long in the shop, and Ethan left grinning with a piece of paper clutched on his hand. The three got back in the carriage and then headed straight off to the town centre.

They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring shops, while Jacob and Evie pointed to whatever that caught their attention. Somehow, Ethan managed to have the twins sit and stand still long enough for the tailor and cobbler. After that, Evie found a book for pressing flowers while Jacob got a football. It was almost sundown when they all got back. 

At home, another cake waited in the dining room along with another feast. There was a pot of savoury elven soup along with shepherd's pie, Yorkshire pudding, roast turkey, steamed vegetables and mixed fruits. The food was more than enough for the twins, but five hungry teenagers almost mowed down all the food. 

Ethan let the twins bathe themselves and simply stood watch so neither fell asleep in the tub and drown by accident. Jacob slipped into Evie's room that night, and their father didn't have the heart to have them sleep in separate rooms. 

Solas then provided their bedtime story by telling a adventure he had with Senriel, when the world knew him as the Inquisitor, in a place called the Winter Palace. He spoke about stopping an assassination attempt on a young empress and brokered an alliance between her and her political enemies and then divided their powers together equally. There was espionage, romance, and a battle between Senriel's brother and the evil assassin's forces. Senriel, at that time, didn't know how to turn into a dragon yet.

By the time Solas was talking about Senriel taking turns dancing with each member of his Inner Circle and advisors, the twins were asleep.

With that, Solas turned the gas lights off and left. 

\--------

Jacob blinked. 

Senriel was nowhere to be found. 

It looked like he wasn't anywhere familiar in the Fade either. Not at first glance anyway. 

An alter stood at the very centre of a circular chamber, a silver chalice on top. There was a skylight right above it, and Jacob can see decorations of stars floating about. Braziers surrounded the tomb, and dragon statues and murals served as design. 

There was an enormous door with intricate carvings, and then it burst open. 

A tall strongly-built man marched inside, smiling lightly, followed by an older Senriel. Both were muted and grey, but Senriel's eyes were still vibrant and blue-gold. 

The man was about as tall as Jacob's father, wearing elegant robes that barely concealed his well-toned body. On his back were a Claymore and a staff strapped together. There was a ruby on the sword’s pommel, glowing with magic.

“Thaddeus,” Senriel began, frowning. His voice was deeper, but it still had that boyishness associated with teenagers. “What is this place, exactly? In the material world, it's just… Ruins.”

“This was a temple dedicated to Lusacan once. From the depths of the Fade, his blood would find its way to that chalice. We would drink it and his powers would manifest in us.” Thaddeus then lifted the cup and bought it to his lips. A tiny line of red dripped at the corner of his mouth. 

“So does his will,” Senriel commented with slight distaste. “According to Leliana, if a dragon is intelligent enough, they can control those that drink their blood. Don't you think Lusacan will do the same?”

Thaddeus smiled, the lower half of his face visible under the cowl, easy and confident. “It happened already, the Magisters Sidereal, remember?”

Senriel was still frowning, playing with the end of his scarf. “I know, but what will happen if-”

“Remember, I'm more or less a soul that did pass on and is now stuck in the Fade. Lusacan can't touch me.” Thaddeus approached Senriel and slung his arm across the smaller man. “No longer material.”

“I know, but his voice still-” Senriel looked frustrated and annoyed.

“I've learned to ignore it,” Thaddeus boosted, puffing his chest in pride. “Besides if the Watchman - Augustus Pavus - can resist it as a Darkspawn Reaver, so can I. I mean, I'm just an altus high priest, and he was a Magis-”

Before Thaddeus can say anything, Senriel grabbed his face and pressed their lips together. 

Jacob's eyes widened at the display, strong back as the two proceeded to kiss violently. They were almost eating each other’s face. Senriel’s arms wrapped around the other man's neck, while Thaddeus’ large hands held the elf steady.

Feeling awkward, Jacob spun on his heel and headed straight for the exit. Before he could leave, the world around him began to disintegrate, and the boy now found himself in an endless expanse of darkness. 

“Um… hello?” Jacob called out, feeling dread settle on his nerves. A sudden chill blew, and all the hairs on his neck began to stand up. He glanced around, trying to walk forward but nothing changed in his view. 

“Senriel?” Jacob shouted to the darkness. “Where are you?”

“Jacob?” That was a woman's voice. Jacob turned and blinked, gaping at the person before him. 

“Mum?”


End file.
